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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30064449">Skippy Aye Yo</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterOfYith/pseuds/DaughterOfYith'>DaughterOfYith</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>World of Warcraft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Angst, Canon Relationships, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Permanent Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prisoner Violence, Prisoner abuse, Sexual Assault, Suicide, Torture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:48:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,209</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30064449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterOfYith/pseuds/DaughterOfYith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Flynn Fairwind became an honest man, and was able to leave his past behind him. But his past wouldn't leave Flynn Fairwind behind.</p><p>(Mind the tags.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Treachery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Major thanks to Dan for suffering through this mess as my editor.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>And when greed and felony sail the sea<br/>You can bet your boots there’ll be treachery<br/>Shiver my timbers<br/>Shiver my sails<br/>Dead men tell no tales<br/>- “Shiver My Timbers”, Muppets</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Booty Bay was hardly a large port, and not exactly the friendliest, but goblins cared for their business. As long as whatever was being done on their territory served their own gain, and interrupting it threatened said gain, the cartels would protect the former and stop the latter. It wasn’t the worst place to dock for some rest and recreation, if you kept your head down and went about your business without bothering others. And since the <em>Bold Arva</em> had been out for a while, the crew could use a day of shore leave. They made good time thanks to favourable weather and the effort of their resident tidesage, Melli Spalding, who on her own request got permanently reassigned to the <em>Arva</em>.</p>
<p>That, and they needed to resupply before sailing home to Stormwind.</p>
<p>The crew disembarked with content chatter, happy at the perspective of a proper meal and soft beds. Flynn smiled, leaving the ship last, as was customary for the captain. The paperwork he didn’t really look forward to, but it should go smoothly now that he was flying Alliance colours and carrying an actual seal proving his allegiance.</p>
<p>That still hadn’t entirely sunk in.</p>
<p>
  <span>The weather in this part of the continent was always difficult to bear, ranging </span>
  <span>anywhere</span>
  <span> from very hot to unbearably hot, and the humidity didn’t help in the slightest. Even the ocean breeze couldn’t chill him enough, what with the bay being shielded by hillsides from almost all direction</span>
  <span>s</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <span> Normally, he’d be sipping from his flask, but it was empty and, somehow, he didn’t feel the immediate need to refill it. </span>
  <span>He had plenty of other things to think about in his downtime, as his life was undergoing </span>
  <span>a very</span>
  <span> important change, and it helped </span>
  <span>him </span>
  <span>focus on thoughts that were not related to alcohol.</span>
</p>
<p>Or the people trying to bother him during what was thus far a pretty good day.</p>
<p>“You got docking papers?” a high-pitched voice said, making Flynn stop mid-step. It was a goblin clad almost completely in some sort of armour; one of the local bruisers that were supposedly keeping the peace, but less officially furthering the interests of the local cartel.</p>
<p>“Was on my way to deliver them, yes.”</p>
<p>The goblin gave him a stern look. “I’ll take ‘em off your hands and carry ‘em to the harbourmaster.”</p>
<p>“Change in rules since I last docked?”</p>
<p>“Something like that.”</p>
<p>Flynn didn’t reach for the paperwork resting in an inner pocket of his shirt. (As much as he hated leaving his favourite coat on board, he had trouble bearing the heat as he was. An extra layer of clothing was potentially a death sentence.) The bruisers often forced small sums of money out of arriving captains in some ways, usually by threatening damage to their ship or cargo, but he’s never had one demand documents before. It was difficult to make out anything meaningful in the noise around them, but he was pretty sure he didn’t hear the bruisers make such requests of the other vessels.</p>
<p>“I’ll handle it myself if it’s all the same to you, mate,” he said.</p>
<p>As he tried to continue onward into town, the goblin put himself in front of Flynn to block his way. “Only if you give me your name, bud.”</p>
<p>He rolled his eyes. “Captain Flynn Fairwind of the <em>Bold Arva</em>. May I go now?”</p>
<p>
  <span>Somewhat unexpectedly,</span>
  <span> he was let go, so he hurried towards the harbourmaster’s office before the bruiser could think of anything else. But that </span>
  <span>exchange</span>
  <span> still didn’t make any sense. If they wanted something from him, they certainly didn’t gain much by just letting him be on his way. But if they didn’t want anything, why the demand? Why the questions?</span>
</p>
<p>Maybe he would have a drink or two after all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Delivering the papers went exactly as expected, making that previous encounter even more bizarre. </span>
  <span> He tried to take a swig from his flask </span>
  <span>to stave some </span>
  <span>off some of the heat</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span> only to remember that it was completely empty – and realise how much he’s been thrown off balance, to forget something of such importance. </span>
  <span>To get a drink he’d need to go to a </span>
  <span>tavern</span>
  <span>, where he’d hopefully be able to </span>
  <span>take a refill to go </span>
  <span>as well</span>
  <span>, but his favourite one was quite a way further in town. But since “favourite” meant that the ale there didn’t taste like a rat pissed in the vat, and that you were significantly less likely to leave with a shank between your ribs, he’d bear the thirst for a bit longer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took him a moment to realise he thought about </span>
  <span>alcohol</span>
  <span> as important. </span>
  <span>Yeah, he’s been drinking a lot. No sailor would think that particularly weird, and especially not a pirate in the heart of Freehold, but none of them knew just </span>
  <span>
    <em>why</em>
  </span>
  <span> he always had rum on him.</span>
</p>
<p>It was an outlet. As he moved aside to let a group of tauren pass in the narrow street, he felt the flask shift in its place by his belt. His little confidant, the one who always listened to whatever demons were haunting him at the time, and the only one able to shoo them away. At least for a short while. Every now and then one of those demons would rear its head at him, often at the most inconvenient and inopportune moments. At first he tried to just grit his teeth and fight through them, and it worked for a time.</p>
<p>Until it wasn’t working anymore.</p>
<p>A lot of the people around him probably had similar experiences. Some turned to piracy by choice, often because of greed, rebellious taste for freedom, or some sort of drive for revenge against authorities. He himself knew at least one such individual – starts with Harlan and rhymes with sweet – but there were many, if not most, who ended on that path because of circumstances out of their control.</p>
<p>He passed a pair of humans, male and female, who seemed to be glancing at him. When Flynn looked at them they were not looking back, but he could swear that’s what they did the moment he averted his gaze.</p>
<p>They weren’t his crew, and didn’t appear to be his former crew, either, the one he captained alongside Sweete. He couldn’t be sure whether he actually saw anyone he knew in the crowds at all. Probably his imagination; having been sailing since adolescence, he’s ran into what was likely hundreds of different people of various races in all the ports he’s docked in. Some faces might have stuck somewhere in the back of his mind. Not that it mattered.</p>
<p>It made him feel somewhat uneasy, though, and he wasn’t sure why.</p>
<p>“All to plan, then?” he heard a voice say behind him. He couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like it was the man talking. Probably not aware that Flynn heard it.</p>
<p>“<span>Aye, I think I know where she’ll find him,” </span><span>the </span><span>woman</span><span> responded.</span><span> “I’ll go alert her immediately.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>When the captain glanced over his shoulder, </span>
  <span>she was gone.</span>
</p>
<p>Was he getting paranoid? Probably. No one survives a life of piracy without having eyes all around their head. And more than that, no one dates an accomplished spy without some of that paranoia inherent in the job rubbing off on them. In a way it was a bonus, if not a requirement, for his new role in the ranks of the Alliance.</p>
<p>An SI:7 informant. Not something he’d ever even consider becoming, and yet, there he was, ready to essentially snitch to his boyfriend on the people he used to consider his own.</p>
<p>A thought crossed his mind of what his former crew thought about him after he left. He just packed up and disappeared overnight, letting Harlan Sweete take over his ship. Obviously they were pissed enough to have him beaten half to death some months ago, in Freehold, but there was something hypocritical about that. He never gave it much consideration before, but now that he thought about it – his mind wandering in all sorts of weird directions in the jungle heat – he noticed a certain double standard. If a crew mutinied to get rid of a captain, most sailors just assumed the captain was a horrible person and did something, or many somethings, to deserve it. But if a captain left to get away from a crew, the blame was also on the captain.</p>
<p>That certainly painted his own self as a very bad person, at least in the eyes of most people he knew in Freehold, bless Venrik’s heart. Oddly enough, as much as he loved the freedom of sailing under no one’s colours, and wished he didn’t have to cut ties with the few friends he had, leaving that life wasn’t as difficult as he thought it could’ve been.</p>
<p>Certainly not in hindsight, he smiled to himself as his hand brushed against his pouch, and the Alliance seal in it.</p>
<p>Maybe that was why those people were staring at him before, and why that bruiser seemed so intent to get his paperwork. Few Alliance ships, or Horde for that matter, docked in so-called free ports out of fear of all sorts of trouble. Usually theft of cargo or personal effects, a mugging or two, but assassination was always a risk when authority met piracy, even on neutral ground and with alleged peacekeepers around. Blood was bad for business, but sometimes blood <em>was</em> business.</p>
<p>
  <span>Flynn slipped into his favourite </span>
  <span>bar</span>
  <span> as quietly as he could. He’d just need to keep his head down for a day until they departed the next </span>
  <span>morning.</span>
</p>
<p>He seated himself at the counter and ordered ale. A light drink, at least in comparison to what he was used to. He felt less inclined to drown his sorrows, but that didn’t mean he stopped drinking completely. Especially after those weird encounters earlier in the day.</p>
<p>Maybe he’d have another ale after.</p>
<p>He’d probably have another.</p>
<p>“Think I’ve seen ya here before,” the barkeep said as he placed the alcohol in front of Flynn. “Yer mug’s familiar.”</p>
<p>“So’s yours,” Flynn grinned as he took the tankard and raised it for emphasis. “Used to drink here a lot back in the day.”</p>
<p>“I see a lotta regulars, but ya stand out.”</p>
<p>He raised an eyebrow. “Do I?”</p>
<p>“Ya that bloke that jumped his own ship in Freehold?”</p>
<p>Flynn quickly glanced around the room, but it didn’t seem like anyone paid attention to them. Everyone was going around their business, be it cards, dice, a drinking contest taking place in the far corner, or being chatted up by a goblin woman in red, an obvious prostitute. What was it with that bloody day that every single conversation made Flynn’s hair stand on end?</p>
<p>“I don’t really broadcast that to the world, mate,” he said, voice low. “I’d appreciate if you kept that to yourself. There’s a tip in it for you.”</p>
<p>The barkeep just huffed and turned to another patron who seated herself a few stools away.</p>
<p>
  <span>Apparently his past wouldn’t just stay in the past. Even if </span>
  <span>Flynn</span>
  <span> tried his hardest to put his life of crime behind him, there always had to be this one random person in the a</span>
  <span>rse</span>
  <span> end of the Eastern Kingdoms to remind him. No wonder </span>
  <span>he</span>
  <span> turned to drinking as much as he did. And how he got there was just one of his many demons.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Life in a gang sucked in a number of different ways, the beatings and rationing of food as punishment being only some of them, but at least he </span>
  <span>had a place to sleep</span>
  <span>, and </span>
  <span>was </span>
  <span>sheltered from the elements. </span>
  <span>But as his life progressed from there, it became increasingly difficult to handle everything. </span>
  <span>Enrolling on a pirate ship, while a necessity </span>
  <span>at the time</span>
  <span>, forced him into situations his young self couldn’t have even conceived </span>
  <span>b</span>
  <span>ack then</span>
  <span>. Much less comprehend what it actually meant to plunder a ship until he was forced to thrust a cutlass clean through a man. His first kill had been messy, unexpected, and left him sleepless for a few nights straight until his body just gave up. It helped when a more seasoned crewmember gave him rum, probably much more than any teenager should even see in one mug, but pirates were never particularly concerned with what’s appropriate for children.</span>
</p>
<p>For a bit, he forgot about the horror of taking a life, helped by the company of that crewmember. She’d been his first crush, too, though he never made a move on her, and was glad for it. And when more demons piled up on top of the ones already there, rum was there to steel his nerves. Even when the woman disappeared from his life, the alcohol stayed.</p>
<p>Quite a pathetic little story, all things considered. And not even Taelia knew all the details.</p>
<p>The woman sitting a few stools away eyed him uncomfortably slowly.</p>
<p>“… Can I help you?” he asked between sips of ale that were perhaps a bit too deliberate. Despite what he once told Mathias, he wasn’t a good actor if he needed to improvise.</p>
<p>“Must’ve mistaken you for someone,” she said flatly. “You look like someone I knew back in Kul Tiras.”</p>
<p>Wait. She wasn’t the same woman he passed before, was she? He didn’t get a good look at her on the street, but she looked familiar. Sounded familiar, too.</p>
<p>What the hell was up with that day?</p>
<p>“I don’t live in Kul Tiras,” he decided to say. Was probably good enough. Not exactly a lie; he <em>used</em> to live there, but it wouldn’t be for much longer. It still felt weird to think of Stormwind as home. But the paperwork had been processed, signed and locked away safely in his cabin aboard the <em>Bold Arva</em>. Some of the crew were certain to leave because of it, having already decided that Kul Tiras was where they wanted to remain – at least while on land – and were already guaranteed a quick portal back to the island.</p>
<p>Next time he’d dock in Stormwind, it’d be for permanent stationing. The <em>Arva</em>’s home port would be in the very heart of the Alliance, and with Flynn’s own heart.</p>
<p>“Thought I saw you sail in on a Kul Tiran ship,” the woman said with a shrug and got up. “My mistake, mate, sorry about that. I’ll leave you to your other guest.”</p>
<p>Flynn blinked at her. “Other guest?”</p>
<p>“<span>Probably would be me,” a voice said from his other side. A female goblin sashayed her way towards him, </span><span>the prostitute he noticed earlier. S</span><span>ported bright pink hair and wore a long, red dress, cut open at the sides of her hips to expose them, and at the chest to accent her ample breasts. Flynn raised an eyebrow at her.</span></p>
<p>“’<span>Ello, sailor,” she said in a rehearsed, fake tone, and sent him an equally practised smile. “Saw ya </span><span>sittin’</span><span> alone here, ya looking for some company?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>She leaned forward a bit, giving him a better view of her cleavage. Flynn had to admit she wasn’t the worse he laid his eyes on. He had a couple romps with goblins before, most of them sober, and some of them he didn’t even regret. (A part of him actually dreaded the day when Mathias would ask just </span>
  <span>
    <em>why</em>
  </span>
  <span> he had Arva’s portrait in his cabin, and her name on the side of his ship.) He did in fact appreciate the way her breasts jiggled.</span>
</p>
<p>“Nope,” he said, and sipped more of his ale. Damn, that was the rest of it.</p>
<p>She raised her ridiculously pink eyebrows and inched even closer, almost brushing against Flynn’s knee. He shifted away.</p>
<p>“<span>Come on, handsome,” the goblin </span><span>moved</span><span> her hand </span><span>up along </span><span>his arm, and was pushed away, gently but firmly. “Grab another beer an’ let me relax ya…”</span></p>
<p>Flynn stood. “Not interested,” he said, tossed a couple coins on the counter and quickly left. There went his plans to just kick back in the company of a mug. Maybe he could get a refill of his flask in another tavern and do some more drinking back on the ship.</p>
<p>He glanced over his shoulder, but the prostitute wasn’t following.</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed through his nose. A bit more and he’d have to battle a slightly different problem, one that he’d </span>
  <span>
    <em>certainly</em>
  </span>
  <span> have to take care of on the ship.</span>
</p>
<p>Well. He might do just that, regardless. He’d been at sea for a while, and that tended to wake desires in a man. Especially one separated from the object of his fantasies.</p>
<p>Just a few more days.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he made it back to the </span>
  <span>
    <em>Arva</em>
  </span>
  <span> it was already after sunset, but in a port – especially one as busy as Booty Bay – it didn’t matter. Lamps illuminated as much as they could, and the clamour didn’t even begin to die down. Flynn took a swig from his refilled flask as he made his way to the </span>
  <span>
    <em>Arva</em>
  </span>
  <span>’s railing on the far side from the dock. Looking up to the clear, starry night, he could drown out the noise into the background, focused instead on his own serenity.</span>
</p>
<p>The crew was rooming at inns, seeking rest before they sailed off again in the morning. He had the entire place to himself, and could allow himself a calm so great and blissful that he couldn’t remember when he last felt that way. Only one thing could make that picture better, but sadly Mathias couldn’t always be at his side.</p>
<p>
  <span>He </span>
  <span>heaved a quiet sigh</span>
  <span>, glancing briefly in the general direction of north, where Stormwind laid. Where Mathias was, hopefully missing him as much as </span>
  <span>he was missed</span>
  <span>. The man – beautiful, gentle, loving man – made the nightmares go away and kept the night’s cold at bay. He knew how bad things could get for Flynn if he was left alone with his thoughts for too long, and always helped him through it. Flynn did the same, of course, whenever </span>
  <span>his beloved</span>
  <span> needed him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He still wasn’t quite sure how he managed to catch the attention of Mathias Shaw. The stoic, stern spymaster that to any casual observer looked like he was made of ice, and daggers, or potentially icy daggers, and surrounded by nothing but tall walls. And yet, somehow, Flynn was the one to break through those walls, to warm that coldness, to let some light into the darkness that was the life of Shaw. Flynn, who spent most of his life on the other side of the law, whose personality tended to clash with </span>
  <span>Mathias</span>
  <span>’s quite openly, and who, frankly, used to irritate the absolute shit out of </span>
  <span>him.</span>
</p>
<p>Then again, things were never the way the appeared to be, not with a spy. Shaw was not as heartless as he let others think he was; Flynn suspected he never had been, but ended up pretending for a multitude of reasons that the captain was still processing. He himself had a façade of his own, pretending to be much more cheerful – and much more of a brainless idiot – than he really was. Well, he <em>did</em> fancy himself an optimist, with a solid sense of humour and uncommon charm, but there were times even he felt overwhelmed with the terrors of his past. He just made sure no one saw the real him when that happened.</p>
<p>
  <span>They were more alike than any bystander would assume. Quite a pair, really. Flynn </span>
  <span>gave a wistful smile to the stars above, and briefly wondered if they were watching him back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a swig from his newly refilled flask. It would have to do to calm his mind for a bit longer, but not </span>
  <span>too long</span>
  <span>. Soon he’d find himself in a loving embrace once again, and he’d have something much more important than alcohol to help him get through those trying times – an ear that always listened, words that always comforted, and warmth to keep him grounded in the happiness they shared.</span>
</p>
<p>It didn’t matter how he got to where he was. He landed the most amazing man in all of Azeroth, and that’s all that he cared about.</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, </span>
  <span>he didn’t exactly complain about</span>
  <span> all the little perks that relationship came with. He didn’t fear the Admiralty would demand something he wasn’t willing to do, and that they’d pull the trump card they had been holding over his head and threaten execution for piracy to force his compliance. He’d been working for them for a while and did a good job, if he dared say so himself. Cyrus certainly didn’t complain. But being close to the spymaster essentially guaranteed Flynn’s safety, in a way. It was like a seal on a pardon, a formal recognition of his service to the Admiralty and the Alliance. </span>
  <span>It would certainly be a benefit should his past find him again. </span>
  <span>After all, f</span>
  <span>riends on the right side of the law got him out of Freehold when he </span>
  <span>got the brilliant idea to show his face there </span>
  <span>to investigate the Irontide.</span>
</p>
<p>Hopefully he wouldn’t need to rely on anyone in such a situation ever again, or at least for a long while.</p>
<p>He took another swig, sighed, and froze.</p>
<p>
  <span>Footsteps behind him. A cock of a blunderbuss. </span>
  <span>Fuck everything, did the day just </span>
  <span>
    <em>have </em>
  </span>
  <span>to keep getting worse? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He </span>
  <span>turned around very slowly, hands in plain sight, and stared right into the barrel of a firearm. It was held by one of three people, a distinctly goblin figure.</span>
</p>
<p>“Should’a let me take ya to a room and drug ya, handsome.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Bold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>My heart is pierced by Cupid<br/>I disdain all glittering gold<br/>There is nothing can console me<br/>But my jolly sailor bold<br/>- old sailor song</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Shaw blinked himself half-awake, and rolled onto his side. It was still very early, the sun barely rising, so he didn’t have to get up just yet. He was never really a morning person, but some days he didn’t feel like getting up at all. That seemed to be one such morning.</p>
<p>The sheets next to him were neat and cold. It was clear no one slept on that side for a while, as the only one allowed there had left to sea. Luckily, it wouldn’t be much longer.</p>
<p>
  <span>He</span>
  <span> kept sleepily staring at the empty space beside him. </span>
  <span>He r</span>
  <span>
    <em>eally </em>
  </span>
  <span>didn’t feel like getting up. Mornings were rather chilly this time of year, and the bed was warm even without his man beside him. How he missed Flynn. At least he had memories to keep him company, like those of the last time the captain spent in his bed. </span>
  <span>Of</span>
  <span> the chestnut locks sprawled out on the pillow, sticking to Flynn’s sweating forehead, </span>
  <span>of</span>
  <span> that panting breath and those begging curses.</span>
</p>
<p>“<em>Oh, fuck, mate, that feels incredible.”</em></p>
<p>The voice was vivid in his mind as if he only just heard the words. They came in between shallow breaths, in that incredibly sexy accent-</p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p>
  <span>Well. They said falling in love made you feel younger. Normally, Shaw </span>
  <span>woul</span>
  <span>d get up and splash his face with cold water a few times, maybe open a window to let the </span>
  <span>chill </span>
  <span>inside. It would push his desires away and let him focus on the job ahead of him, at least most of the time. Sometimes he had to handle it the more direct way, and did it quickly, efficiently, as up to this point his body’s desires were more of a necessary evil than anything else.</span>
</p>
<p>But that was no longer the case. Perhaps a little bit of good could come out of war after all.</p>
<p>And it was still very early. He could spend a short bit of time on himself.</p>
<p>
  <span>He shifted onto his back with a sigh and once again focused on the memory of his last night with Flynn. The </span>
  <span>sailor</span>
  <span> looked so incredibly erotic as he sat astride </span>
  <span>the spymaster,</span>
  <span> sounded so hot as he impaled himself on Shaw’ cock time after time. He recalled how good those muscles felt around him, stroked himself in the same rhythm, squeezed and released just like that tightness squeezed him.</span>
</p>
<p>“<em>That’s it, Mattie, fill me up...”</em></p>
<p>
  <span>He let a groan escape his lips as he came into his own hand, and laid there for a moment, breathing heavily. He then looked down at the mess he just created. That will take a bit of cleaning.</span>
</p>
<p>But that was alright. A year ago he’d have been either ashamed of his own lust, or angry at spending time on something embarrassing. Time that could’ve – and, as his past self considered, should’ve – been spent on more important matters. But no longer; now that he had someone to focus his desires on, they felt much more natural. More fulfilling. And not only did he enjoy giving in to them – even by his lonesome – he was fine admitting it, too.</p>
<p>At least to himself.</p>
<p>
  <span>Having managed to haul himself out of bed, he got himself in order rather quickly. He left the house with a small bite to eat on his way to SI:7. Flynn would insist he eat</span>
  <span>s</span>
  <span> more, and was probably right, but Shaw usually got to a proper meal after sorting through the first reports that were inevitably waiting on his desk. Habits die hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cool morning air helped clear his head and take away some of the heat he was still feeling after that bit of morning fun. The mists that often rested around Stormwind this time of year were beginning to clear, letting through more sunlight. It brought a small smile to his lips. A brief one, but he allowed himself that more often in recent times.</span>
</p>
<p>He passed people starting to come out to begin their day, whatever their lot in life was. A young lady with a basket of flowers sent him a smile.</p>
<p>“<span>Good morning, sir!” she chirped, walking towards him with a bit more vigour than he himself could muster th</span><span>at</span><span> early in the day. </span><span>She raised the basket </span><span>to show him it was f</span><span>ull of roses of different colours. “A flower for your lady?”</span></p>
<p>“<span>No, thank you.”</span></p>
<p>“<span>She would certainly appreciate it, I assure you,” the lady managed to somehow broaden her smile. It was obvious she put on a show to get more customers, and no one could really fault her for that, however irritating she was beginning to be.</span></p>
<p>“<span>What makes you think I would even need a flower?” Shaw asked. He’d love to get her out of his hair, but just walking away seemed rather rude even for someone like him. </span><span>He did make a promise to himself to at least try to acquire some proper social skills. Whether he liked it or not, he was bound to end up among people now that there was a very outgoing someone there to drag him into society.</span></p>
<p>“<span>Your expression, of course! You were smiling like a man in love.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>He looked down </span>
  <span>at</span>
  <span> the roses, if only to avoid meeting her gaze again. He was certain he blushed, and that always showed on his face, curse his pale complexion. </span>
  <span>Had th</span>
  <span>at</span>
  <span> been an interrogation, or the middle of an assignment, showing emotion could cost him more than he was willing to pay. He’d need to work on controlling himself more; a skill he thought he honed to perfection years ago, but apparently there still could be situations in which he’d lose that control. </span>
  <span>Taking full charge of involuntary reactions was somet</span>
  <span>h</span>
  <span>ing even the most stoic person would find difficult. And since, </span>
  <span>until recently,</span>
  <span> he hadn’t even considered opening his heart up to anyone</span>
  <span> he didn’t prepare for </span>
  <span>such circumstances.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even he himself never suspected anyone would actually </span>
  <span>
    <em>want</em>
  </span>
  <span> him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But </span>
  <span>someone did, and that</span>
  <span> relationship was not a secret – he doubted it would be possible to hide it at all, with Flynn being the way he was – and even though Shaw didn’t exactly walk around shoving it in people’s faces, </span>
  <span>they</span>
  <span> really couldn’t miss the fact that he was frequently in the company of the same man, holding hands. Of course someone was bound to make a comment. People would be talking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would have to get used to it eventually. Not an easy feat, considering that every time he was reminded that others knew, he was also reminded that the relationship made himself and his beloved vulnerable. Flynn could become a target, could be used against him. Something could happen to him like it did to so many others before, and Shaw would have to live with that guilt, that pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he wouldn’t trade it for the world.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Well,” he said, looking for the right words. “I’m afraid he’s out at sea. Wouldn’t want the flower to wither before he gets home.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>The woman blinked at him. “Oh. Oh, my apologies. Perhaps another time then, if I’m not here then you can find me around the Trade District canals-”</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>I’m sure I’ll find you if I need you,” he gave her a small nod and turned to walk away. “Good day to you.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>He heard her say the same in return when his back was </span>
  <span>was already turned</span>
  <span>. Perhaps that was a bit rude of him after all, but he only had one coffee so far that morning, and he was somewhat irritable before his third cup. Such was the life of a spymaster, especially one who had trouble sleeping. But the roses did look beautiful, the red and white ones in particular, especially next to each other. A few of them in a bouquet…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He made a mental note to buy a few on the day Flynn was set to dock.</span>
</p>
<p>The wait was taxing, making him understand why people said that giving your heart to a sailor was as much a blessing as it was a curse. But the thought of the smile he’d see when his beloved came home, the warmth of his embrace, the sound of his voice as he told of the trip, every single detail that Shaw wouldn’t even dream of interrupting, the intimacy they’d share that night – those made the lonely days just a bit easier to bear, and the wait worth enduring.</p>
<p>
  <span>How his life changed, and in such a short time. </span>
  <span>Since the last time he let happiness slip from his grasp </span>
  <span>he stopped looking for more. Light, it’s been decades. All those years spent married to his work, devoting every waking moment to his duty to the Crown, and exactly none to himself. He essentially resigned himself to enduring the rest of his days like that and to dying alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then came th</span>
  <span>at stubborn someone </span>
  <span>who</span>
  <span> decided he’ll </span>
  <span>get to know the real Shaw</span>
  <span>, whether the </span>
  <span>man</span>
  <span> liked it or not, and </span>
  <span>did just that</span>
  <span>. Flynn found just how lonely he was, how the burdens of his work were slowly becoming too heavy to carry alone, and took some of them upon his own shoulders. Gave him something else to </span>
  <span>spend time on</span>
  <span>, a way to ease the pain, showed him that he could have so much more than overworking himself at day and sobbing through nightmares at night. He had plenty of demons of his own, but they found that they were just a little bit easier to endure against the warmth of a loved one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flynn turned his life upside down, and there was no going back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A familiar voice broke his trail of thought. As he made his way through Old Town, his favourite area in all of Stormwind, he heard Taelia Fordragon. Years – almost a lifetime, in fact – of listening for everything of importance primed him to pick up such things. She had been talking to someone before turning to Shaw, a polite smile on her face.</span>
</p>
<p>“Good day, Spymaster,” she said.</p>
<p>“Good day,” he replied with a nod. “You’re up early.”</p>
<p>“<span>There’s still so much of the city I want to see, would be a shame to waste time.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>So wanderlust was one of the things she and Flynn </span>
  <span>h</span>
  <span>ad in common.</span>
  <span> “I suppose,” Shaw said, not really knowing what else to add. The knowledge of her parentage made their interactions rather awkward, at least on his end.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>I was on my way to work,” he said after a moment. “So don’t let me halt your exploration...”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>She looked up at him – somehow, she was shorter than him, despite his own not exactly impressive height – and the smile on her face broadened just a little. “I was actually hoping to see Old Town today, if you don’t mind me walking you to work?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And there it was. </span>
  <span>H</span>
  <span>is position required him to be around people quite a lot, and </span>
  <span>he had no issues with giving out orders, but social interaction on a personal level was a different matter entirely. </span>
  <span>While he managed to somehow get half of a conversation going with the flower lady, she was a stranger. He wasn’t sure he knew how to do the same with someone more familiar, let alone someone whose mere presence kept reminding him of yet another of his many demons – of the failure suffered in the icy north, and of a great man lost to a fate worse than death. His training prepared him well enough for hiding </span>
  <span>various things</span>
  <span> from those around him, but many times – many more than he was willing to admit – he questioned whether doing so was the right thing. Even if necessary, he didn’t always have to like it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If – when, really – the girl found out, she’d probably despise him. He wasn’t really looking forward to getting closely acquainted with her warhammer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But </span>
  <span>on the other hand, </span>
  <span>getting to know her better wouldn’t be </span>
  <span>a bad thing, </span>
  <span>if he could force himself to move past the </span>
  <span>hurdles in his mind</span>
  <span>. In fact, he probably owed it to Flynn, with how close those two were. </span>
  <span>He decided to make that effort, despite having no idea how to go about it </span>
  <span>or w</span>
  <span>here to even begin.</span>
  <span> He hadn’t really made a platonic friend since Amber, and he almost forgot what it was like.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And completely forgot how they even got there.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Not at all,” he said, and to cut the awkwardness as short as possible, resumed walking </span><span>further </span><span>into Old Town. </span><span>Taelia followed closely, her eyes wandering around at everything around them, taking in the scenery as it was gradually bathed in more light of the rising sun.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Shaw never really paid attention to how beautiful Stormwind was. Looks like the </span>
  <span>recent </span>
  <span>shift in his mindset allowed him to notice these things better. </span>
  <span>He found enjoyment in the more mundane things those days, in the little details he used to consider irrelevant, or distractions.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>This district is a little different, isn’t it?” Taelia said, breaking the silence. Bless her for </span><span>having proper social skills. </span><span>No wonder she and Flynn got along, they seemed about as talkative as each other. And seemed to be able to read Shaw just as easily, which, for a high rank</span><span>ing</span><span> spy, normally would be a bad thing.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>But those two, he trusted.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>It’s </span><span>the oldest part, yes. Unlike the rest of the city, most of it survived the razing of Stormwind back in the First War.” He lowered his gaze to the paved path for a moment. “The other districts have been rebuilt by good men and women, and they tried to keep everything as close to how it was as possible. Old Town served as something of a reference, in a way.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>She </span>
  <span>either </span>
  <span>didn’t notice the drop in mood, or at least had the sense not to comment on it. “To keep the architecture as it was. I see. I wish history didn’t always have to be so sad…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Makes two of us,</em>
  </span>
  <span> he thought, but chose not to say. No reason to invite questions that would prod into his experiences with the reconstruction of Stormwind, or more specifically the m</span>
  <span>e</span>
  <span>n in charge. </span>
  <span>A</span>
  <span>nd knowing how curious and inquisitive the girl beside him was, she’d surely have many.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps in time he’d feel comfortable saying more. When he’d finally learn to lay his past to rest.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>At least we live to have an opportunity to learn from past mistakes,” he heard himself say. Was opening yourself up to a person without realising you’re doing it part of making friends?</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Taelia smiled again, but there was something different in that expression. A sadness to it, light drained from her eyes. “We all have those, that’s for sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaw didn’t know how to respond. </span>
  <span>They just walked on as he searched for words, moving through the increasingly large crowd of people. </span>
</p>
<p>“BOSS!”</p>
<p>
  <span>He and Taelia both turned to the source of that call. </span>
  <span>A</span>
  <span> goblin was making his way quickly through the few </span>
  <span>people</span>
  <span> that got in his way. Renzik, clutching a piece of parchment in one hand. He was rarely concerned, and if he decided to seek </span>
  <span>his superior</span>
  <span> outside of headquarters this openly, it had to be important.</span>
</p>
<p>It had to be bad.</p>
<p><span>Mathias’</span> <span>stomach clenched.</span></p>
<p>“What is it?” he asked as the goblin reached them, not having even broken a sweat.</p>
<p>Renzik shoved the parchment into the spymaster’s hand. “This literally just arrived by messenger. Thought you’d wanna see this in person, and soon.”</p>
<p>Shaw nodded and unfolded the note. It was coded, of course, so there wasn’t much risk of anyone reading over his shoulder. While the cypher wasn’t unbreakable by any means, it would take more work than peeping allowed for. He glanced over the hastily scrawled words, decoding them with the practised skill of a lifelong spy.</p>
<p>And his heart moved up towards his throat.</p>
<p>
  <span>The code – used in a very concise, precise manner – told him that someone got taken. Abducted, from Booty Bay, as that was where the message originated from. Such news were hardly unheard of; in this line of work agents went missing every other week, and many never came back, or came back in a box. But this wasn’t just anybody the note named as the victim.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He</span>
  <span> rolled up the note. “You were right to take this to me so quickly,” he said, handing the parchment back to </span>
  <span>his </span>
  <span>agent.</span>
  <span> His voice was audibly strained, and </span>
  <span>for the second time that day he</span>
  <span> scolded himself for allowing emotion to show in any way. The only reason that wasn’t an immediate concern was because they were in friendly territory, and the only people who heard him were ones who already knew about that </span>
  <span>particular</span>
  <span> vulnerability </span>
  <span>of his.</span>
  <span> “I need to take care of this personally. I trust you to cover for me while I’m gone.”</span>
</p>
<p>The goblin only managed a nod before Shaw took off towards the Trade District. Gryphons were the quickest way towards Stranglethorn, as so far they didn’t manage to negotiate any rights for emergency portals into the area. The cartels valued predictability. He walked quickly, pace close to a run, and a voice in the back of his head told him that people will start wondering.</p>
<p>He chose not to care.</p>
<p>“<span>Spymaster!” came from behind him. Taelia.</span></p>
<p>He stopped, clenching fists. “I’m kind of in a hurry,” he said, struggling to keep his voice level. Mathias Shaw, the most stoic and composed person in the whole of the Alliance, could barely contain his fear.</p>
<p>
  <span>One of his worst nightmares just came to life again; someone was in trouble and it very well might have been the spymaster’s fault. </span>
  <span>What if this was it, the moment when another person he </span>
  <span>cared for so very much wa</span>
  <span>s to be used against him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>W</span>
  <span>hat if Flynn got hurt because Mathias selfishly gave in to his feelings?</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>That’s why I’m here,” she breathed, catching up to him. “My gryphon is the fastest in Kul Tiras, she’ll get us to wherever you need to go.”</span></p>
<p>He raised an eyebrow. “These are classified SI:7 matters-”</p>
<p>“<span>It’s Flynn, isn’t it?”</span></p>
<p>Shaw paused. And decided he’ll get nowhere by lying. If anything, it would prolong the conversation, and he had precious little time to spare. “Yes. It’s Flynn.”</p>
<p>
  <span>Taelia took a deep breath. “Knew it. Saw it in your eyes.”</span>
</p>
<p>He probably blushed.</p>
<p>“So I’ll come with, and we’ll be there in no time.”</p>
<p>“<span>It’ll likely be dangerous,” </span><span>he</span><span> said, not sounding very convincing even to himself. He wouldn’t ask a civilian to assist in something that was more of a personal endeavour than an official mission, especially one that was genuinely risky. But in truth, he wasn’t asking; she volunteered. He could live with that, and could certainly use the backup. There was no telling what he was about to throw himself into. The note had been brief and mentioned nothing about possible culprits, no details about circumstances in which Flynn was taken. In all likelihood, the sender simply didn’t have such information, and it only made everything so much worse.</span></p>
<p>Uncertainty was a spy’s worst enemy.</p>
<p>Taelia just shrugged. “Used to danger, sir. I just want to make sure he’s alright.”</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d probably hate himself for this after it was all done. He never acted this recklessly, never rushed into action without examining the situation from all angles, preparing for any potential complications, setbacks or failures. But that took time, </span>
  <span>and </span>
  <span>the more of it they wasted, the more likely it was he’d be looking for a corpse rather than the man he loved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And </span>
  <span>that </span>
  <span>was not something Shaw’s heart could take.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Alright,” he said. “Where’s your gryphon?”</span></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Pain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Trading in secrets, trading in lies, operating on the fringes are all the Spymaster knows. His lost passions, lost loves are all gone, crushed under his own duty and loyalty to the crown. Nothing is left, nothing but the pain. Pain is an apt tutor and tool and one in which the void knows intimately.</p>
<p>- Mask of the Pained</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Flynn didn’t know where he was, but had a good idea how he got there. The people who cornered him on his own ship – </span>
  <span>
    <em>his own ship</em>
  </span>
  <span> – led him out of Booty Bay at concealed gunpoint, making sure it’s not obvious that he was being abducted. They passed surprisingly few bruisers, and all of them averted their gazes, what made him certain they had to be paid off ahead of time. While it was quite flattering that someone would go through so much trouble to get at him specifically, it also painted itself as a situation not really easy to get out of. Anyone who had enough will and funds to pay off a </span>
  <span>
    <em>goblin cartel</em>
  </span>
  <span> wouldn’t let up easily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once out of town the people threw a rough sack over his head and </span>
  <span>pushed</span>
  <span> him </span>
  <span>forward</span>
  <span>. His ankles still smarted from tripping over stones and roots. He had no real idea how long they walked, and since they went at night, he couldn’t tell the direction by orientation of sunlight or its heat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wherever they led him was clearly a cave, dark, damp and slippery. The protruding stones around him were smoothed out by the flowing water, useless to cut through the rope binding his wrists behind his back and his ankles to one another. He felt a slight breeze, </span>
  <span>so</span>
  <span> the entrance couldn’t have been too far, but a winded passage blocked his view. </span>
  <span>There wasn’t enough light to see much of anything</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>There could </span>
  <span>have been</span>
  <span> another passage somewhere to his side, leading deeper in.</span>
</p>
<p>Not that it mattered. He had no intention of going further into the cave, even if had the option to.</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t tell how long he’d been there, but he stopped struggling against the bonds a while back. They were tight, the rope sturdy, and all it ended up doing was break the skin around his wrists. He was sure they stopped bleeding, but that didn’t lessen the pain. It </span>
  <span>helped</span>
  <span> divert attention from more pressing concerns – specifically, his empty stomach, and his throat having dried out so badly it felt like he’d been eating sand. He tried lapping up some water from the cave walls, but </span>
  <span>in the dark</span>
  <span> he couldn’t locate any of it flowing. Scavenging on the ground, as he tried very hard not to think about what things might be floating in any possible puddle, yielded similar results.</span>
</p>
<p>He was rapidly running out of options.</p>
<p>A faint glow of light from the passage and wet footsteps grabbed his attention. He tried to push himself up into a sitting position and failed miserably, certain he only made a pitiful show of himself. The woman that came in would have a lot of fun.</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t expect a woman, and a human to boot. His expectations must’ve gotten skewered by the goblin who first pretended to seduce him and then pointed a blunderbuss in his face. Or maybe it was the thirst and hunger clouding his mind. They really proved themselves difficult to ignore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman set an oil lamp on the floor near Flynn, giving him a glimpse of her ample breasts. </span>
  <span>Her shirt was of the kind</span>
  <span> popular among sailors of the Eastern Kingdoms, at least those that chose to sail under no one’s colours.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It would make sense that the infamous Flynn Fairwind would make enemies among other pirates, but he really couldn’t think of anyone other than Harlan Sweete. She didn’t look familiar, either. He always took pride in knowing each and every one of his crew by name and face, so she couldn’t have been one of his. That large scar running over her admittedly beautiful features really stood out, even in the dim lamplight. </span>
  <span>Surely he’d have remembered s</span>
  <span>uch a memorable, distracting detail.</span>
</p>
<p>She spoke first. “You look pathetic.”</p>
<p>“<span>I’ve been called worse.” Don’t show weakness to your opponent; he’d learned that even before he met Shaw, </span><span>who made sure to drill that lesson into him. For situations exactly like th</span><span>at</span><span> one. For when Flynn needed to survive.</span></p>
<p>“<span>I’m sure you have.” </span><span>She pulled out a waterskin and took a sip.</span></p>
<p>Flynn kept his expression blank. Don’t let her know she’s getting to you. “What exactly do you want from me?”</p>
<p>
  <span>He could make out the frown on her face</span>
  <span>. “I was kind of hoping you’d remember.” She </span>
  <span>took another sip.</span>
  <span> “No matter.”</span>
</p>
<p>“Apologies, I have a queue of people waiting to shove a sword through me, which one were you again?”</p>
<p>
  <span>She snarled</span>
  <span>. “El,” she said. “They call me El the Painless.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flynn raised his eyebrows</span>
  <span>. His voice began cracking under the discomfort in his parched throat, but he managed: “Because you feel no pain, that it?”</span>
</p>
<p>He could barely make out her smirk, and in the shifting shadows cast in the lamplight, it looked sinister. Maniacal. Predatory.</p>
<p>“<span>Quite the contrary.” She sounded oddly pleased. “I felt so much pain, no more can truly hurt me.”</span></p>
<p>She took a step towards him. The waterskin made sloshing sounds, what served only to bring more of his attention back to how much he needed to drink something. Anything. But the woman didn’t let him linger on that for too long.</p>
<p>Her words cut into the chilly air. “I’ll be sure to help you understand.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Galeheart really was quicker than any gryphon Shaw had ridden before, but there was something off about sitting in the saddle with Taelia in front of him. He seldom had his arms around a woman, and never in a way such as this, which his brain began to associate with the warmth of a lover. He’s flown with Flynn a couple times before – that disaster of a treasure hunt having burnt itself most into his memory – and having someone else so close felt just… wrong. They had to be pressed against each other, and under any other circumstances he wouldn’t allow anyone this close. Especially at his front.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As least Taelia didn’t seem to be as self-conscious about their position. “We’ll be in Booty Bay soon,” she called over the howl of the wind and the flap of feathered wings.</span>
</p>
<p>Shaw nodded against her shoulder. “Do you have any idea who could be behind this?”</p>
<p>“Not really,” she turned her head slightly, forcing him to pull away. “I don’t know his enemies other than the ones already dead.”</p>
<p>He raised his eyebrows. “No offence meant, but aren’t you his best friend?”</p>
<p>Taelia paused for a second. “Maybe,” she finally said, turning back to look ahead at the jungle greenery rising from behind Duskwood’s hills. “He didn’t tell me all that much of his past, though. Said he wanted to start over without that hanging over him.”</p>
<p>
  <span>That certainly sounded like Flynn. A man forged by series of circumstances and events largely out of his control, most of them painful. It wasn’t exactly a surprise that he’d want to focus on the happier times he lived to see, happier times that were the result </span>
  <span>of </span>
  <span>decisions he was finally allowed to make for himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Shaw could respond, Taelia added </span>
  <span>with a smile</span>
  <span>: “Besides, you’re his best friend now.”</span>
</p>
<p>It was probably true; he never thought about it like that. While he’s had a number of lovers, most of them were just flings he threw himself into out of sheer desperation. He had very few relationships he actually put any sort of stock in – in fact, as only one person knew, the feelings he used to have for poor Edwin were entirely one-sided. He also had very few friends, and somehow his brain never really made the connection that a person could be both. Hearing out loud that he had a lover and a friend in one made his chest tighten just a bit. But it didn’t feel like happiness, or the good kind of embarrassment.</p>
<p>“<span>I’m sorry,” he said.</span></p>
<p>He couldn’t see Taelia’s expression, but she sounded honestly puzzled. “Huh? What for?”</p>
<p>“Taking him from you.”</p>
<p>Her shoulders tensed for a split second before relaxing again. “I don’t see him too often anymore,” she admitted. “But he’s still my friend and I’m happy he’s happy.”</p>
<p>And then, exhaling loudly through her nose, she said: “Oh. You thought we were more, didn’t you?”</p>
<p>
  <span>The spymaster’s</span>
  <span> grip on her waist tightened. </span>
  <span>Just like with the flower lady earlier in the day, he could not control his involuntary reactions. And that meant his feelings were </span>
  <span>obvious,</span>
  <span> and it terrified him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No use lying after that, either; she’d know. “I did.”</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Not at all.” She sounded more cheerful again. He felt like some of the weight lifted off his chest. He had no reason to assume she wasn’t being honest, even if he couldn’t see her face to evaluate all the usual non-verbal signals, all the little telltale signs of dishonesty.</span></p>
<p>Right?</p>
<p>“<span>So please stop worrying about that, Master Shaw,” Taelia pulled him back from his thoughts. “He’s all yours.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>He shifted a bit in the saddle. “Mathias.”</span>
</p>
<p>“… Sorry?”</p>
<p>“Call me Mathias. You’re on first name basis with Flynn, I guess you should be with me as well. It’s only fair.”</p>
<p>She flashed him a grin. “Pun intended?”</p>
<p>“<span>No,” he groaned, but welcomed the relief.</span></p>
<p>“<span>Alright. Thank you for that, Mathias.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>He just smiled at that. </span>
  <span>H</span>
  <span>e almost forgot how nice it felt to </span>
  <span>truly</span>
  <span> trust someone. It was incredible how Flynn yanked him out of his comfort zone, </span>
  <span>and</span>
  <span> broke the walls around it, </span>
  <span>and showed him that there was an entire, beautiful world out there, filled with good people.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even more unbelievable was how much Shaw </span>
  <span>liked</span>
  <span> it on the other side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Booty Bay finally came into view, its wooden shacks bathed in the afternoon sun. Ships were moored at almost every dock, and it wasn’t difficult to spot the </span>
  <span>
    <em>Bold Arva</em>
  </span>
  <span> among them. Its brand new blue and gold colours gave her away, and brought with them a sense of pride. Not only for the fact that her captain – the most important person in Shaw’s life – was now working for the same Crown that </span>
  <span>the spymaster</span>
  <span> served his entire life, but also for the fact that said </span>
  <span>captain</span>
  <span> used to be on the other side of the law.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whether by choice or not, Flynn Fairwind </span>
  <span>once plundered </span>
  <span>the seas. Used to be one of those captains that could only dock in so-called free ports like the one Galeheart was taking them to. To think that an infamous pirate could atone for his crimes with honest work, earn the trust of the Crown itself, and pledge allegiance to it – this time by choice…</span>
</p>
<p>That former pirate was, deep down, an honest man, and that honesty continued to come closer and closer to the surface. Shaw was more than simply proud of that. He loved Flynn so much.</p>
<p>
  <span>But w</span>
  <span>hat if </span>
  <span>that cold, sinking feeling in his gut was</span>
  <span> right? </span>
  <span>What if that was the reason Flynn was now in trouble?</span>
  <span> The blue and gold was impossible to miss among all those ships, and it was sure to draw attention. Perhaps someone in town recognised the captain, and realised that he’s signed up with authorities that were rather eager to keep freebooting to a minimum, if not eradicate it entirely. Someone was almost certain to care, if they knew Flynn personally. Shaw was well aware of that debacle from some months before, when Flynn was snatched in Freehold and almost killed by his former First Mate. </span>
  <span>It wasn’t much of a stretch to assume something like that could happen again, since pirates weren’t likely to tolerate a turncoat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it could </span>
  <span>be even</span>
  <span> worse. What if whoever did this wasn’t aiming for Flynn, but for Shaw? </span>
  <span>There were probably entire scores of people aiming</span>
  <span> to get at the spymaster, but that was no easy feat, so they would </span>
  <span>surely</span>
  <span> try to find a more roundabout way. And if they were to hit where it hurt most, they would have to go for his beloved.</span>
</p>
<p>That one single time Mathias allowed himself to be selfish, and at what cost?</p>
<p>“Are you okay?” Taelia asked. There was no way she could get a good look at him over her shoulder, so if she noticed something off, it must’ve been very obvious on his face.</p>
<p>“<span>Concerned.” It was close enough to the truth to hopefully cover for what he was really thinking. It wasn’t even a lie; he </span><span><em>was</em></span><span> concerned, but the girl didn’t need to know the exact details.</span></p>
<p>“Me too,” she sighed. “But he’s been through a lot, and pulled through each time. He’s tough. He’ll hold out ‘til we find him, and we’ll end up laughing about it, you’ll see.”</p>
<p>Her voice wasn’t steady.</p>
<p>Galeheart descended and smoothly adjusted to the harsh winds of the bay. Most gryphons struggled to land there, and Shaw usually dismounted with his stomach somewhere in his throat, but this time he didn’t feel like he was about to reacquaint himself with his breakfast. Or maybe it was the adrenaline.</p>
<p>
  <span>He urged Taelia to go to the docks and check in with the crew of the </span>
  <span>
    <em>Arva</em>
  </span>
  <span>. He promised he’d be right there, as soon as he checked out what he called another lead. She probably figured out that he meant the sender of the message that brought them to Booty Bay in the first place, but didn’t protest and simply left. </span>
  <span>Trying his hardest to fight the genuine fear looming in the back of his head</span>
  <span> – not a state he found himself in often – Shaw had enough presence of mind not to expose an informant to a civilian with no security clearance. And she had enough presence of mind not to argue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A gryphon in Kul Tiran green likely attracted enough attention as it were, so they parked her at the flight master. Shaw paid the </span>
  <span>possibly tripled </span>
  <span>fee without question and the two of them split. Taelia hurried off to the docks, towards where they saw the </span>
  <span>
    <em>Arva</em>
  </span>
  <span> moored. She should have no trouble locating it and getting information from the crew. That meant that Shaw had to make haste as well, if he wanted to start the search in a reasonable time.</span>
</p>
<p>Landro Longshot was exactly where Mathias expected him to be. Even though they recognised each other at first glance, the spymaster was pulled aside, further away from prying eyes and ears, and they exchanged passphrases. It didn’t matter that everything looked fine; you don’t trust appearances.</p>
<p>Shaw would know.</p>
<p>“<span>Didn’t think you’d come in person,” Landro said. “Though I remember you came here with that guy in tow last time.”</span></p>
<p>“Where is he?”</p>
<p><span>The goblin raised an eyebrow. Straight to the point, as always. </span><span>Mathias knew he</span> <span>pique</span><span>d </span><span>his</span><span> interest, of course; while having an informant in enemy hands was a security risk to SI:7 as a whole, and therefore to the Alliance itself, he </span><span>would surely wonder</span><span> why </span><span>it angered him so much. Seeing someone so composed let go of some of that control would attract anyone’s attention.</span><span> He tried to hide it, but there was no covering for the anger </span><span>he felt.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Curiosity was a valuable trait in an informant, but at that particular moment, the spymaster wasn’t exactly eager to divulge any details. </span>
  <span>It didn’t matter that he was personally invested in the situation. It had to be taken care of, and whether the goblin thought it was for the Alliance or for Mathias himself was of no consequence.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>I only know they took him north of town,” </span><span>Landro</span><span> said</span><span>. “Three, one of them a goblin.”</span></p>
<p>“How long ago?”</p>
<p>He shrugged. “Last night, not long after sunset. Sixteen hours, maybe?”</p>
<p>Shaw’s arms were crossed on his chest, but the way he tightened the grip he had on his own arm had to be visible. “So they could be anywhere?”</p>
<p>“Depending on their resources, yes. But I don’t think they’ve gone far.”</p>
<p>The spymaster frowned at him, but said nothing, expecting an explanation.</p>
<p>“Well, if they had a mage to portal them out, they’d do it on the spot instead of walking him out of town and risking interruption. If they had a zeppelin or any other vehicle parked outside, I’d know. I’m your eyes here, right?”</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaw glanced away for a moment, thinking the words over. Landro had a point, but it all depended on what people they were dealing with. Were they professionals, or just hired hands? Why were they holding Flynn? If it was for ransom, they’d have made a demand to the </span>
  <span>
    <em>Arva</em>
  </span>
  <span> by now, as it’d have been less risky to contact than the Stormwind authorities. And more likely to pay up.</span>
</p>
<p>But then again, if he’s been taken further into the Vale, or even out of Stranglethorn entirely, there was no way for any of them to know. There was no choice but to start in the area.</p>
<p>He nodded. “Thank you, Landro, you were right to inform me directly. I’ll make sure you’re compensated as soon as the matter is taken care of.”</p>
<p>
  <span>And he hurried off towards the docks, leaving the goblin grinning to himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He found Taelia talking to one of the women of the </span>
  <span>
    <em>Arva</em>
  </span>
  <span> - First Mate, Shaw recalled – up on deck. He approached unceremoniously, yanking them out of their conversation.</span>
</p>
<p>“Hi,” was all he said in greeting, before either of the women could speak. “What do we know?”</p>
<p>“<span>Not a lot,” said the officer. “I haven’t noticed anything in the past couple weeks that would suggest this would happen…”</span></p>
<p>“Anybody coming to mind?”</p>
<p>“<span>As in, who did that? Not exactly. Flynn didn’t have many enemies that I know of, not since Sweete was killed.”</span></p>
<p>“That you know of,” Shaw nodded slowly.</p>
<p>“He doesn’t tell me anything, not about his past. If anyone should know, it’s you.”</p>
<p>His lips narrowed into a thin line, but he stopped himself from snapping at her. Unprofessional – he’s taken far worse insults, anyway – and getting into a childish argument would just waste precious time.</p>
<p>And besides, she had a point.</p>
<p>
  <span>Taelia stepped in. “Probably pirates,” she said, looking from Shaw to the First Mate. “He left that life literally overnight, and started working for the Admiralty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mathias</span>
  <span> responded with another nod. “Even if it’s not personal, he’s a threat to Freehold.” </span>
  <span>That was, of course, if Flynn was the actual target and not merely a means to an end. </span>
  <span>The other thing he didn’t want to say out loud – hearing it said, in his own voice especially, would probably freeze the blood in his veins – was that if the hit hadn’t been a personal grudge, the captain was likely already dead. You don’t target a known threat and give them time to escape or be found.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As horrific as the thought sounded in his mind, he truly hoped there was something more to this abduction. If he believed the Light was listening, he’d pray.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But miracles were notoriously unreliable, and he didn’t like unreliable. He raised his eyebrows, realising the women were staring at him in silence. “Well,” he said. “What I got from my source does indeed suggest pirates.” He turned to Taelia. “They took him north, so that’s where we’re starting.”</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Sir.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>He shot one more look at the First Mate, in a silent question of whether she had anything else to add, and only received a nod in response. Nothing left to learn or do in Booty Bay, then. He hurried down the gangplank, with Taelia’s footsteps close behind, and immediately turned towards the tunnel leading north. The noise of the town faded into the background as all he could focus on was his own </span>
  <span>pulse thundering in his ears.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Cyanide</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Feel your soul depart<br/>Now your flesh is my own art<br/>Cyanide runs in my<br/>Electroheart<br/>- “Electroheart”, Amaranthe</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter includes graphic violence and minor sexual assault.</p>
<p>Major thanks to my friend D. for helping me figure out details of the violence.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was something terrifyingly familiar about the woman.</p>
<p>
  <span>Flynn was convinced he didn’t know her, but the more she moved around him in the dim light of the lamp, the more he started doubting </span>
  <span>himself</span>
  <span>. It wasn’t her breasts, large as they were – contrary to popular opinion, Flynn Fairwind didn’t bed everything that didn’t run away, and when he chose to sleep with someone, it was for more than just their appearance. Not to say that he wouldn’t pick Shaw’s backside out of a line up. But it was an exceptional backside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, it was something in the way she moved. She was quiet and nimble as she circled him, and he tensed up when she disappeared from his view. If not for the water on the ground beneath her feet she’d make literally no sound, and Flynn couldn’t predict what she’d do next. All he knew was that it likely involved the knife she </span>
  <span>brandished in front of him</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>He noticed</span>
  <span> the specific, practi</span>
  <span>s</span>
  <span>ed way she held it, </span>
  <span>and it unnerved him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d seen that before. That’s how </span>
  <span>Mathias</span>
  <span> handled his knives, too.</span>
</p>
<p>She was an experienced killer.</p>
<p>“Um,” he managed, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “You admiring the view, or..?”</p>
<p>“<span>Thinking what to do with you,” she reached into a</span> <span>pocket of his pants</span><span>, then one on the other side, and took his wallet. Because of course she did.</span></p>
<p>Was that just because of opportunity, or did she want more, he wondered. Worth a shot. “Do I owe you money? If you let me go-”</p>
<p>She slapped him across the cheek with the palm of her hand, but it was not a hard blow. In fact, he barely felt it. Sending a message, then. “I don’t need your money.”</p>
<p>“But you took it anyway.”</p>
<p>
  <span>T</span>
  <span>he shadows on her face shift</span>
  <span>ed</span>
  <span> as she smirked. “Don’t </span>
  <span>
    <em>need</em>
  </span>
  <span> it, but I do </span>
  <span>
    <em>want</em>
  </span>
  <span> it.”</span>
</p>
<p>Flynn fidgeted a bit as he tried to change position, but didn’t really manage to. “I can get you more.”</p>
<p>El stared down at him, the smirk disappearing completely. “From where? Your employers at the Admiralty, or Stormwind itself? Or should I say handlers?”</p>
<p>Oh, shit. “So this is about a grudge?”</p>
<p>She knelt, holding her knife between them. “If you want to call it that.”</p>
<p>He cleared his throat. It hurt. But as long as he had her attention, maybe he could delay whatever she intended to do to him. Failing that, maybe he could at least learn something, perhaps a thing he could try to use against her, if not now, then later. If there was going to be a later.</p>
<p>“Did I dump you or something?”</p>
<p>El’s laugh sent chills down his spine. It was loud and shrill enough to echo a bit in the cave despite its dampness. “You flatter yourself, <em>Captain</em>,” she spat the last word out. “You might have a pretty face, but I wouldn’t give myself to a heartless motherfucker like you.”</p>
<p>“Okay, what the fuck are-”</p>
<p>He didn’t finish, blinding pain cutting off any words he had left to say. He heard himself scream, both in pain and in shock, and the faint echo screamed back at him in his own, distorted voice. Once his vision cleared he noticed the knife sticking out of him. She plunged it into his shoulder, just between chest and arm.</p>
<p>He had enough clarity left to realise that was both very bad and somewhat good. Wounds in that particular spot were dangerous, but healed rather easily, and he wouldn’t start bleeding until she pulled the blade back out. But it also meant that he couldn’t move one arm, not without risking worse injury.</p>
<p>El wanted him immobilised. More was coming.</p>
<p>“That was a lovely noise you made,” she said, moving behind him. He could hear the satisfaction in her voice.</p>
<p>Breathe. Steady, in, out. Focus.</p>
<p>He heard her unsheathe another blade. He felt it move between his hands and jerked, hissing at the pain in his shoulder, before he realised she cut the rope that bound him.</p>
<p>“Scared you?” she asked in a smug, mocking tone. She held the hand on his non-injured side as she stepped in front of Flynn again, and he wondered if she could see the sweat starting to bead on his forehead. “I’d have expected a pirate captain to be a bit braver than this.”</p>
<p>He steadied his breathing again, enough to say: “What do you want?”</p>
<p>In response, El held his hand up so that he could see it well – as well as the lamp allowed – and gently rubbed his fingers. Over the length of them, over the knuckles, then over the palm. Her touch was delicate and deliberate, almost sensual. She looked him in the eyes, focused.</p>
<p>It would’ve been arousing if not for the pain. She was clearly trying to be titillating – and succeeding, for the most part – even though she must’ve been aware it couldn’t have the full desired effect in his state. He stared back at her, trying hard – struggling – to disguise how unnerving it all was. The uncertainty of what was to come, the clear intent to cause him harm in one way or another, the blatant sexual overtones…</p>
<p>He was scared.</p>
<p>He heard a snap, and screamed again. She broke a finger.</p>
<p>“You have strong hands,” she said matter-of-factly. “I can see why women would like you to hold them. Shall we make sure you never will again?”</p>
<p>Flynn took a deep breath, but couldn’t stop the air from escaping him in quick, ragged gasps. The pain was starting to overwhelm his ability to control his own body… and by any indication, they only just started. But one didn’t survive a life like his by being weak. He could still think, if slower.</p>
<p>She said women.</p>
<p>She didn’t know everything about him. What’s more, that meant she didn’t know about Shaw.</p>
<p>The crew was certain to come looking for him. Depending on how much time passed – he couldn’t tell, but the hunger that got pushed back by his more immediate problems told him it must’ve been a while – they might already be looking. With any luck they thought to inform Mathias of what happened.</p>
<p>And Mathias would surely find him. He was only the most skilled spy on Azeroth.</p>
<p>Flynn had to believe that. It was his only hope.</p>
<p>A touch to one of his still intact fingers derailed his thoughts. He expected to hear his bones snap again. He didn’t expect to see the knife – no, dagger, it was larger – that El was holing being brought to his finger. Or, more specifically, right below the nail. He felt the sharpness prod his skin and oh, Tides, that was going to hurt so fucking much--</p>
<p>He almost bit his tongue as the blade was slowly pushed forward, deeper under the nail. The pain was equally as slow, building on itself to a point where he felt tears well in his eyes. It was sharp, pointed, and concentrated.</p>
<p>“I’ll make sure you never enjoy yourself again,” El said. Her tone was flat, emotionless, and only made the experience so much worse. If she held a grudge so strong that she was willing to go to such lengths to satisfy it, why wasn’t she angry with him? Or overjoyed at getting her revenge?</p>
<p>Did she truly feel nothing?</p>
<p>The blade stopped, probably because it reached the end of Flynn’s nail. He couldn’t tell; everything was blurred by the tears, and he could only make out spots of light breaking the suffocating darkness around him. He cried out when she flicked the nail clean off, and immediately felt the blood seep onto his skin.</p>
<p>“That’s better,” he could hear El’s voice become more cheerful, but only marginally. He tried to blink the tears away, only to scream once more, at the top of his voice, when she broke all his remaining fingers at once.</p>
<p>Struggling to steady his breath, and resulting only in hyperventilation, he heard her gurgle something liquid. She was drinking from the waterskin, the sound of it deliberately loud. His throat hurt immensely, and he feared a few more screams like that would make him taste blood. His stomach was tied in several knots, but whether that was from hours of not eating, or from growing nausea, he couldn’t tell.</p>
<p>
  <span>She pressed her lips to his, suddenly. They were soft, moist and delicious. She forced Flynn to yield to her and as he opened his mouth, she let him drink the water she’d been holding. He should’ve been disgusted. Terrified. Angry at himself for not protesting, but the liquid soothed the pain in his throat immediately, and he felt himself surrendering. For a fraction of a second he forgot about the </span>
  <span>knife in his body</span>
  <span>, about his broken fingers, drinking like a man dying in a desert.</span>
</p>
<p>In a way, he was that man.</p>
<p>El pulled away far sooner than he’d want, the water nowhere near enough to sate his thirst. With his mouth open, softly panting, he stopped himself from begging for more.</p>
<p>“El,” he rasped. “Is not your real name, is it?”</p>
<p>She chuckled. “Of course not. Took you a while. Are you trying to remember, o Captain?”</p>
<p>“You were on my crew,” Flynn said. It was a guess, an ironic stab in the dark, but he made it sound like he was certain. A method of fishing for information, making them think you know more than you actually do so that they surrender even more; a useful skill he obtained in Freehold, and honed at home, in Stormwind.</p>
<p>
  <em>Mathias. Please come soon.</em>
</p>
<p>“Before you jumped your own ship, yes,” she said flatly.</p>
<p>That scar. She must have gained it after the last time he saw her, then, and it altered her appearance enough for him not to be able to place her face. Some captain he was. He should know every single one of his crew not only by name; he should have enough of their trust to learn what spices they like on their food, for Tides’ sake. And yet her mannerisms, her speech, they were all familiar, but nothing he could put a finger on.</p>
<p>Heh. Bad choice of words.</p>
<p>El. El who knew quite a lot about him, so she either was all up in his face while serving under him, or was good at staying out of sight and listening. She was certainly good with knives, very determined-</p>
<p>Something clicked. An image of a young woman sitting on the railing of his ship, one time when the breeze died down. Pirates didn’t exactly have the luxury of sailing with tidesages, so to avoid cabin fever setting in, everyone did what they could. That young woman always played with a knife – whittled a piece of driftwood she’d taken aboard with her, dug under her own nails, or even just inspected how light reflected off the blade. Flynn had asked her about it once, curious, and she only told him that knives made her feel safe.</p>
<p>“El-” he coughed. What little water she allowed him was already a distant memory. “-laine.”</p>
<p>She paused. “What was that?”</p>
<p>Flynn tried to look up at her, but between his eyes being puffy from tears and what scant lighting the lamp provided, he barely saw a thing. “Ellaine,” he managed. “You signed up on my first crew. Before Sweete.”</p>
<p>Her expression shifted, but he couldn’t tell whether it was to satisfaction, anger or something entirely different. “Correct. You were my way out of an exceptionally shitty life.”</p>
<p>He said nothing, instead choosing to listen in hope of learning more. Of course he could relate; like so many others, he was pushed to piracy by circumstance and necessity, and unlike so many others, it ended up giving him the happiness he longed for.</p>
<p>The fact that he found said happiness <em>after</em> quitting his life of crime was an irrelevant detail.</p>
<p>He saw her inspect her bloodied dagger in what he assumed was a thoughtful manner. She was probably considering what to do with it next.</p>
<p>To delay the inevitable, he did what he did best – kept talking. “But I didn’t give you that, did I?” She didn’t acknowledge him. “I fucked something up, and you’re pissed enough to torture me to death.”</p>
<p>She placed the flat of her dagger against his mangled hand and he flinched away. Even that little bit of contact caused him pain. “You did, at first,” she said, her voice flat. But he could swear he heard a faint tremble somewhere below the words. “You were a decent captain, all things considered.”</p>
<p>Flynn took another deep breath, briefly wondering what said all things were, and managed to compose himself enough to continue. “Then what did I fuck up?” Keep it up. Occupy her, buy time. Someone’s got to be looking.</p>
<p>“First, you abandoned us.” She ran the blade slowly along his forearm, cutting into the skin – right next to the artery, just enough to send a message. “Left us to be captained by a maniac who keelhauled people for looking at him funny.”</p>
<p>He didn’t flinch away this time. Whether that was because the pain was bearable in comparison, or whether his body was starting to give up, he had no idea.</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, for reasons he wasn’t even sure of, he felt an urge to explain himself. To let her know </span>
  <span>
    <em>why</em>
  </span>
  <span> he left, so that she’d understand he couldn’t live like that anymore. Maybe it was because she, too, fled to Freehold from a life she sought to forget. Whether that could be done was up for debate – Flynn himself never forgot the violence and abuse he’d been subjected to – but in pursuit of greener pastures he’s thrown himself into a life that was no better. </span>
  <span>The two of them were so similar, having met on board his ship as a result of fate having dealt them the wor</span>
  <span>st</span>
  <span> hand of cards. </span>
  <span>Their positions could’ve easily been reversed; she could’ve been the captain who found her way to happiness and a clear conscience, and he the poor sod who lost everything and then some.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Could El understand that </span>
  <span>he </span>
  <span>disappeared</span>
  <span> because he couldn’t bear being where he was anymore?</span>
  <span> That he never truly wanted such a life for himself, and that Harlan Sweete – a man she clearly despised, too, may he rot – turned it into something </span>
  <span>horrific,</span>
  <span> into another chapter he didn’t know how to handle?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All he could think to do was leave. Just like he ran from the gang handlers who abused him, he wanted to run from </span>
  <span>burdens</span>
  <span> of piracy.</span>
</p>
<p>She probably wouldn’t understand why that was, ultimately, the right choice.</p>
<p>Flynn opened his mouth to explain himself, but she cut him off. “I don’t need your excuses,” she said, tone as sharp as the blade still pressed against Flynn’s bleeding forearm. “I’m not interested in your honeyed words, Captain. You have a reputation for charming people and I’m not falling for that.”</p>
<p>Well. So much for that, then. Flynn closed his mouth and tried to focus on what little he could see of her face. Don’t look at the dagger. Don’t give her any more reason to use it.</p>
<p>El pressed the blade into the cut she just created, and forced the skin further apart. Flynn whimpered, more warm blood seeping over his arm. “But that’s not all, is it? It didn’t end there,” she said, her tone remaining sharp, if not a bit strained. “It’s never that simple.”</p>
<p>He couldn’t stop himself from speaking this time, words coming out in between ragged breaths. “But… I wasn’t even there…”</p>
<p>She moved back, finally withdrawing her weapon and leaving his wound wide open. “Exactly. I was Irontide. And what happened to the Irontide?”</p>
<p>
  <span>In response, silence, punctuated only by the quiet howls of wind from within the cave, the incessant </span>
  <span>
    <em>drip drip drip</em>
  </span>
  <span> of water, and Flynn’s breath.</span>
</p>
<p>The Irontide had been completely dismantled. Most of them dead or captured, awaiting trials in Boralus, the rest scattered to the four winds. Their fall was sudden and swift, culminating in the death of Harlan Sweete himself. A death for bounty, ordered by none other than Flynn Fairwind. Without their captain, the Irontide were finished.</p>
<p>Even their powerful benefactor had been dethroned. They could no longer turn to Priscilla Ashvane to bail them out. Flynn Fairwind had a hand in that, too.</p>
<p>Suddenly, his entire predicament made a terrifying amount of sense.</p>
<p>So why didn’t he feel even the least bit sorry?</p>
<p>“If I left with nothing but the clothes on my back, why didn’t you?”</p>
<p>“You make it sound so simple.”</p>
<p>“It’s not,” he tried to shift position again, parts of him starting to go numb. He could only hope it wasn’t because of blood loss.</p>
<p>El knelt beside him closer than before, and leaned in so that her face was mere inches from Flynn’s. He pulled his head back as far as his weakening body let him. Her expression was blank, but her eyes shone with what he could only identify as hatred. Maybe it was due to the lighting, maybe the scar, but it scared him.</p>
<p>“Not all of us are traitors,” she said, voice low. “We don’t throw away our values to hop into bed with the Alliance at first opportunity.”</p>
<p>Interesting choice of words, though meaningless.</p>
<p>He didn’t sign up with the Admiralty for protection or money or whatever else. He was looking for a place for himself, a life that wouldn’t hurt and that he wouldn’t hate himself for. They pressured him into work, absolutely, but he grew to like the job, and love the people around him. Taelia, Cyrus, the Lord Admiral, they all knew that. Mathias knew that.</p>
<p>Right?</p>
<p>“It’s not my fault you chose to stay,” Flynn managed, and braced himself for punishment.</p>
<p>To his surprise, El laughed. “I don’t need you to understand. I just need you to suffer, as long as you can.”</p>
<p>“Is that why you’re not killing me, then?”</p>
<p>“I have no intention of doing that. You will suffer for the rest of your worthless, miserable life.”</p>
<p>The dagger was back, bloodied and shining in the lamplight right before his eyes. She made a point of showing it to him, as if trying to incite even more fear before some grand finale. It worked.</p>
<p>“You’re probably wondering how I’m going to get away with letting you know all of that.” Her tone was once again composed, but had an oddly mocking tone to it. Flynn did wonder; or, more accurately, hoped to get out with this information to- do something with it. He wasn’t yet sure what.</p>
<p>The tip of the blade was pressed against his lips. He shuddered. “Once I’m done with you,” El said, “you won’t be able to speak.” She pressed the blade higher, against his temple, just next to an eye. “Or see.”</p>
<p>Flynn couldn’t hold the whimper that escaped him. And then, he screamed again, so hard he finally tasted blood in his throat. Searing pain and wetness over his skin told him she cut him, right across his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The goblin grunted loudly, her pink hair fluttering as she was rammed into the tree trunk. The man holding her throat was gripping so tightly </span>
  <span>he was on the brink of choking her</span>
  <span>. His teeth were bared in a snarl, eyes piercing right through her.</span>
</p>
<p>He also made sure she had a good view of the woman holding a massive warhammer beside him, and the goblin’s own companions unconscious on the jungle ground behind him.</p>
<p>“I will only ask this once more,” Shaw said, his voice deep, calm, and level. In defiance of his expression, the man was in complete control of himself and the situation, or at least that’s what he wanted everyone else to think.</p>
<p>He was terrifying.</p>
<p>“Where is he?”</p>
<p>She coughed, forcing him to loosen his grip just enough to let her speak. “There,” she said and slowly, deliberately raised a hand to point in a seemingly random direction. “There’s a cave there, banked by a curved hillside. Easy to miss.”</p>
<p>Taelia glanced from Shaw to the goblin. “She took no convincing at all.”</p>
<p>
  <span>He</span>
  <span> narrowed his eyes. “Why should I believe you’re not misleading us?”</span>
</p>
<p>The goblin groaned. “Youse in Alliance colours, man. What she paid us ain’t worth dyin’ for.”</p>
<p>“She.”</p>
<p>A toothy, oddly smug grin answered him. “If ya hurry, ya might still find her there. An’ that little bitch might still be more than a corpse.”</p>
<p>Shaw grit his teeth, tightened his grip again just to see the smugness fade off her bruised face, and rammed her head into the tree. He then unceremoniously dropped her onto the ground; she was groaning, still conscious, but clearly in too much pain to retaliate. If what she said was to be believed, she wouldn’t risk going after them.</p>
<p>He had to believe her words. Negotiating with a goblin that you just beat into a pulp was more difficult than negotiating with a goblin under normal circumstances, where even that bordered on impossible. There was no time to try to break or bribe her. He had no choice but to trust her.</p>
<p>Or so he told himself. It was easier than admitting he gave in to anger after she insulted the man he loved.</p>
<p>He should’ve been better than that.</p>
<p>“Leave them,” he told Taelia, voice strained, and took off towards the cave before she could protest. “We don’t have time to deal with pawns.”</p>
<p>She spared the thugs only a passing glance. As obvious as it was that leaving them there was dangerous, there were far more pressing issues to deal with. Flynn’s life was on the line, after all, and the longer he was in danger, the less reasonable Shaw became.</p>
<p>And there was no finding Flynn if Shaw lost his mind.</p>
<p>
  <span>Provided</span>
  <span> they weren’t already too late.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Wretched</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I’ll sing ye a song of wretched crew<br/>Skippy aye, skippy aye yo<br/>The sorriest lot I ever knew<br/>Skippy aye, skippy aye yo<br/>Bringing naught but pain an’ shame<br/>Skippy aye, skippy aye yo<br/>I be their captain still the same<br/>Skippy aye, skippy aye yo<br/>- “Skippy Aye Yo”, Ye Banished Privateers</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Despite there being a source of light, however weak, Flynn couldn’t see a thing.</p>
<p>The pain was horrendous, but the fear even worse. The cut went across his entire face, as if she wanted to mirror the scar of her own, and he could feel the blood staining him. It flowed to his moustache, his beard, some of it sticking to whatever hair couldn’t be tamed in a ponytail. She was laughing, loudly, and Flynn heard a whimper escape his own lips.</p>
<p>He didn’t want to be crippled. Nobody did, probably. He wanted to keep his eyes, but he couldn’t even tell how badly she hurt him, anymore. The pain just blended into one single sensation, worse in some places than others, but setting fire to all his senses at once.</p>
<p>Everything hurt, and he had no strength left to pretend he wasn’t terrified of what she’d done, and what else she’d come up with.</p>
<p>“Oh, this is better than I hoped,” El said. “Open them already.”</p>
<p>Flynn pulled his legs just a little bit closer to himself, curling up a bit more. The movement was painful. Slowly, he opened his eyes; he couldn’t make out much of anything, dizzy and weak, and with some of his vision further obscured by bloodied hair.</p>
<p>But he could see.</p>
<p>“I haven’t had nearly enough,” El said, a smirk audible in her voice. “I want to see the fear in your eyes and hear you scream for as long as I can.”</p>
<p>Forcing himself to ignore the metallic taste in his throat, Flynn managed: “The longer you keep me here, the worse it’s gonna be for you.” His voice was quiet, and lacked its usual, confident power. “They’ll find me and you’ll regret it.”</p>
<p>She laughed again, the sound ringing in his ears. “Are you trying to threaten someone who has nothing to lose? I got what I wanted,” she flicked the dagger towards him. He flinched. “I don’t care what happens to me as long as you suffer.”</p>
<p>“<span>You’re insane,” he said, hating how whiny it came out. “I did you wrong, but I don’t deserve </span><span><em>this</em></span><span> much…”</span></p>
<p>The blade disappeared from his limited view, and he felt it press into his abdomen. “You deserve everything that’s come to you. As pirates, we were heartless, wretched people.” The tip pierced through what was left of his stained shirt, and then through his skin. “But you… you went and ruined us, got half of us killed and sent the rest into misery.”</p>
<p>He closed his eyes again.</p>
<p>“<span>And then, after all of that, you had the </span><span><em>balls</em></span><span> to pretend you’re better than any of us.”</span></p>
<p>“I never did,” he whispered, not even sure she heard. “I know I’m not a good man.”</p>
<p>She either didn’t hear, or chose to ignore it. The dagger moved an inch lower. “Some captain you were. The most wretched of all of us.”</p>
<p>
  <span>He wanted to agree. </span>
  <span>H</span>
  <span>is attention focused solely on where El’s hand was headed. She had said she’ll make it so that he can never feel pleasure again.</span>
</p>
<p>Tides, let it be over. Save him or kill him, but let it end.</p>
<p>A whimper got stuck in his broken throat. No. Don’t kill him. He’s survived so much already, and what would happen to his crew if he died? What would happen to Mathias?</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps he’d been an appalling captain before, but he could – </span>
  <span>
    <em>would</em>
  </span>
  <span> – get better at it. Those at the </span>
  <span>
    <em>Arva</em>
  </span>
  <span> seemed content enough, and if – no, when – he got back there he’d make sure he’s a better man. As much as someone as broken as him could be, anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he’d sure as hell never be the cause of grief for a man who lost everything several times over.</span>
  <span> Focus on him, survive, and figure the rest out later. One step at a time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>El took a drink from the waterskin, making sure Flynn saw her do so, and smirked. “So, shall we proceed? Wouldn’t want you able to stick that dick in-”</span>
</p>
<p>She cut off and turned towards the passage that led to the cave’s entrance. Wet footsteps. She hastily rose with her dagger in hand. The cave itself was too small for a proper fight, and it sounded like there was more than one person coming, but at least she wouldn’t be caught unawares.</p>
<p>The first thing she saw in the lamplight was a warhammer, and then the silhouette of the woman that wielded it. Behind her was someone else, an armed man.</p>
<p>She narrowed her eyes. “The Admiralty.”</p>
<p>
  <span>Flynn </span>
  <span>barely heard himself laugh</span>
  <span>. They came. They found him.</span>
</p>
<p>“Of course you’d come for your little pet.”</p>
<p>“<span>Step away from him,” the man said, voice calm but heated, commanding only in a way that particular man could be. The sound made Flynn’s heart </span><span>skip a beat, and for </span><span>the first time since he was taken from his ship, the </span><span>tears in his eyes weren’t from pain</span><span>. The voice was familiar and so comforting.</span></p>
<p>Mathias.</p>
<p>“Or what?” El said, just as calm. “You’ll kill me?”</p>
<p>“I rather have you properly punished,” Shaw said. “But I have exactly zero problems with slicing you open right here.”</p>
<p>“<span>Punished?” She spat the word out like it was poison. She gestured to Flynn’s mangled form behind herself. “</span><span><em>This</em></span><span> is punishment. A proper one.”</span></p>
<p>Taelia spoke to Shaw, without taking her eyes off El. “She’s beyond reasoning with.”</p>
<p>“Lower your weapon,” Shaw said to El. “We’re taking you in.”</p>
<p>
  <span>She grinned, and once again the dim light gave her the appearance of someone sinister, if not demonic, and completely unhinged.</span>
</p>
<p>“Not like that, you’re not,” she said, and spun her arm into a quick attack with her only weapon.</p>
<p>
  <span>Only </span>
  <span>she</span>
  <span> lunged at Flynn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaw didn’t fully register it when his body sprang into action on its own. </span>
  <span>T</span>
  <span>he throwing knife was on its way towards the woman before he was aware of what he did. </span>
  <span>The darkness made it difficult to aim. The blade hit her arm, making her stumble and miss her mark. But she kept her hold on her weapon.</span>
</p>
<p>Hearing Taelia call his name, Shaw wrapped himself around El as quickly as he could to stop her from trying again. He had an arm around her, restraining her for the brief second he needed to bring a blade to her throat.</p>
<p>She stopped struggling and lowered her dagger. “Alright. You got me.” She smirked down at Flynn. “You still lose.”</p>
<p>“<span>Taelia,” Shaw said, forcing his voice not to tremble. “Attend to Captain Fairwind and get him out of here.” </span><span>And, with his voice lower and dripping venom, he added:</span><span> “I’ll take care of </span><span><em>her</em></span><span>.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>With her hammer holstered away, Taelia knelt near Flynn to asses his injuries. Behind her, Shaw withdrew from the cave, dragging El with himself. </span>
  <span>The sailor watched him leave for as long as the scant lighting allowed, a whine getting caught somewhere in his throat. He didn’t want Shaw to walk away, now that he was there. He wanted – needed – to hear more of his voice, to feel those arms around him, to be told that everything was finally alright again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though it really wasn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>It was Taelia that gave the reassurance. “He’ll be back,” she said as she looked the sailor over. “Or you’ll see him again in Booty Bay soon enough. You’re safe now.”</p>
<p>“<span>I know,” he </span><span>whispered</span><span>. Their arrival gave him both a new shot of adrenaline he needed to stay conscious, and enough relief to relax him close to the point of a blackout. A curious paradox, if he had enough presence of mind to realise it. “But getting out will be a bitch.”</span></p>
<p>He heard the sound of a bottle, or a vial being uncorked. “It’s a healing potion. Not much, but should keep you stable long enough to get to town.”</p>
<p>
  <span>Flynn agreed with a quiet “mhm” and drank the whole thing </span>
  <span>as soon as</span>
  <span> it was brought to his lips. It was warm and bitter, and soothed his parched and bleeding throat. The moment he was done Taelia pulled out the knife from his shoulder, making him cry out in pain. He didn’t taste metal </span>
  <span>anymore</span>
  <span>, and the wound wasn’t bleeding.</span>
</p>
<p>She proceeded to untie his ankles. “Can you walk?”</p>
<p>“<span>She didn’t hurt my legs,” he took a deep breath. “Will probably be walking like after a three night spree of Dampwick bars, though.”</span></p>
<p><span>She managed a smile. “Nothing new there, then,” </span><span>she said as</span> <span>he leaned</span><span> against her smaller, </span><span>muscular</span><span> frame </span><span>and let her hoist him up</span><span>. “Let’s get you out of here.”</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>El did not resist as she was </span>
  <span>dragged</span>
  <span> through the jungle and back onto the dirt road leading to Booty Bay. </span>
  <span>Shaw had taken her weapon away and patted her down for any ones she might have had concealed on her person. It took all of his concentration to keep his hands from trembling, and he knew she notice</span>
  <span>d just how much he was fuming. She didn’t seem to care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt something under her clothing; his hand moved over it so quickly he barely registered that it was a probably a blade, strapped to her thigh. </span>
  <span>He didn’t reach for it. Instead, he pushed her further on, his dagger back at her throat. Perhaps ignoring that threat painted him an idiot in her eyes; he couldn’t care. </span>
  <span>He didn’t want to touch that maggot of a human any more than was strictly necessary.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t think she’d risk assaulting him, after how easily he took her down. But if she decided to, she didn’t have enough reach on him to do any real damage. And he’d have a reason to retaliate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shouldn’t kill a prisoner. Unless, of course, she gave him a reason to.</span>
</p>
<p>“You could just kill me,” she said, throat moving dangerously close to the blade. “I can tell you really want to.”</p>
<p>He said nothing.</p>
<p>“<span>You’re pissed, it’s obvious. </span><span>You can’t even take care of me properly.”</span></p>
<p>“<span>I think I’m doing a fine job of getting you to authorities.” His voice was strained, but level, as neutral as he could force it.</span></p>
<p>“<span>Oh, no,” El </span><span>smirked</span><span>. “Do you even know you’ve left me a weapon?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Once again, Mathias said nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>You poor idiot, what would your superiors in the Alliance think if they found out you left me armed? If I attacked you and got away?” Still no response. “Or if you ended up actually killing me if I attacked?”</span></p>
<p>“<span>You’re trying my patience,” he growled.</span></p>
<p>“<span>Isn’t that what you want, though? Didn’t you let me keep the knife so I could give you a reason to kill me, and vent that frankly pathetic anger you’re bottling up?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>He pushed her forward again, harder this time, and she stumbled for a moment. The blade scraped against her throat. Was he really that easy to read that even a complete stranger saw right through him?</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>I’m right, then. </span><span>But </span><span>are you pissed</span><span> just at me, or at yourself for leaving that bitch with the remains of her boyfriend?”</span></p>
<p>Shaw’s grip around her tightened, and he hoped that she took it as confirmation of whichever delusion she held. It wasn’t important what she thought of any of them. Just as long as she didn’t figure out the truth, and why he was so furious.</p>
<p>If she tried pushing his buttons any more, he might actually kill her.</p>
<p>“I don’t think she’ll want him anymore…”</p>
<p>He couldn’t. He’s given in to impulse too many times that day already. He had to restrain himself, if she was to get what she truly deserved. It had to be justice, not vengeance. He was better than that. “The fuck do you know.”</p>
<p>“Enough to know I broke him.”</p>
<p>Shaw stopped abruptly, making her inch into his dagger again. It broke the skin.</p>
<p>“Listen to me, because I won’t repeat myself,” he said, speaking directly into her ear. His voice was level but once more heated, low but deep. “You may think you’re in control, and you’re wrong. You won’t provoke me. I won’t kill you, and you’ll meet justice in Stormwind. I’m sure the other denizens of the Stockade will be very happy to meet you.”</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that he was an advocate for any sort of violence among inmates, but she didn’t need to know that.</span>
</p>
<p>El snorted. “So you Alliance dogs rather pit your prisoners against each other? Why not spare yourself the expense, and give yourself what you want?”</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a certain amount of satisfaction </span>
  <span>in</span>
  <span> taking her smirk away, </span>
  <span>simply by forcing her to continue walking.</span>
  <span> “Because </span>
  <span>
    <em>you</em>
  </span>
  <span> would like that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Flynn had no strength left to complain as he was taken to Booty Bay. The bitter potion kept him in one piece, at least relative to what he could’ve ended up as, though it did nothing to ease his thirst or hunger. </span>
  <span>And the pain,</span>
  <span> still </span>
  <span>lingering</span>
  <span> despite the potion’s soothing effects, </span>
  <span>kept him focused on old memories of being profoundly hungry, of going without food for days at a time. </span>
  <span>The starvation he used to endure as a child was often associated with beatings for not bringing in enough gold to the gang.</span>
</p>
<p>Tides, how he wished he could just go to sleep and stop thinking.</p>
<p>
  <span>Taelia </span>
  <span>led</span>
  <span> him to town as carefully as she could’ve under the circumstances and, followed by curious stares of people around them, looked for a healer. Neither she nor Flynn had the money to afford such services from the cartel, so all Taelia was able to secure was a small prayer from a passing acolyte of the Light, who probably treated it as practi</span>
  <span>c</span>
  <span>e. It didn’t matter, </span>
  <span>as while </span>
  <span>it wasn’t enough to fix</span>
  <span> Flynn,</span>
  <span> she felt a bit more confident in taking him all the way back to Stormwind. They sent quick word to the </span>
  <span>
    <em>Arva</em>
  </span>
  <span> that she’ll need to return without her captain, </span>
  <span>though </span>
  <span>he First Mate would have no problem sailing her home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite all this, Flynn’s joy quickly disappeared. As they walked through town he kept looking around, hoping to spot that patch of copper hair in the crowd somewhere, but Shaw was nowhere to be seen. He never had trouble blending in, but why would he do that? Wouldn’t he just deliver El to authorities and come back?</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Flynn?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at Taelia, Galeheart’s saddle in her hands. “Sorry,” he glanced around the port again. “Just… I don’t see him.”</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>You will soon enough, he’s probably still dealing with… paperwork, or something.”</span></p>
<p>“<span>You’re probably right,” he sighed, and forced a smile. “Must be a real pain in the arse to move prisoners from here to the Alliance, right?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>If he made it back with her at all. “You don’t think he’s hiding, do you?” he heard himself say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blinked at him. “What? Why would he?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flynn shrugged, the wound in his shoulder st</span>
  <span>inging</span>
  <span>. “</span>
  <span>I don’t know. Not even I can really figure out what’s in that ginger head of his…”</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Flynn..” Taelia walked around to his side and took his </span><span>uninjured</span><span> hand in both </span><span>of hers. “It’s alright. He’s not avoiding you, I promise. The moment he found out you’re in danger he dropped everything and rushed to you. He’ll be back soon, I promise.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>He met her eyes, shining with enough hope for the two of them. “… </span>
  <span>You’re probably right.”</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Let’s get you to a proper healer so you can hug the daylights out of each other when you see him.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>As Galeheart took off </span>
  <span>with them in the saddle</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>the only thought racing through Flynn’s mind was the hope </span>
  <span>that she really was right, and that he’d see his beloved soon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They stuffed him into a back room of Stormwind’s cathedral, stripped him almost naked, and </span>
  <span>put</span>
  <span> him on a stretcher. Flynn wasn’t sure how many priests tended </span>
  <span>to</span>
  <span> him, or what they did. Everything was a blur, and he ended up spending most of the treatment with his eyes closed. Some time later – he couldn’t tell how long it actually was – he was clean, and apparently healed.</span>
</p>
<p>He laid there, under a comfortably warm blanket, staring at his hand. The priests were able to restore full range of motion, but since they finished, his muscles seized up once or twice. It was only for a short moment at a time, but he suspected it would continue for the rest of his life. If they said they did all they could, there was likely no fixing it at all. Similar to his other wounds – all closed up, with no obvious lasting damage, but with very obvious scars. The treatment came too late to avoid permanently marking his skin. There was a new, long scar along his forearm, and one across nearly his entire face.</p>
<p>Flynn hadn’t seen it yet. He didn’t want to look at himself.</p>
<p>
  <span>The vanity he showed around other people was, for the most part, just a component of his coping mechanism. He did consider himself attractive, absolutely, and Tides knew the gang taught him how to use to it his advantage. His appearance had been a source of pride for him, he merely exaggerated </span>
  <span>it </span>
  <span>to hide the things he didn’t want on display. Under any other circumstances he’d have turned that new scar into a badge of honour. He’d weave some tall tales about how he obtained it, and would count the women – and possibly men – lining up to have a go at him.</span>
</p>
<p>But these weren’t normal circumstances. And there was nothing honourable about this brand.</p>
<p>Footsteps heading his way echoed on the marble floors, and Flynn carefully sat up. A tired smile crept onto his lips as he finally beheld that copper bush, and those deeply green eyes. Though he didn’t expect the man to hold a small bouquet of roses, red and white, neatly tied together. Shaw hadn’t really been one for little gestures like that, but then again, the situation they found themselves in was anything but ordinary.</p>
<p>Shaw approached him with a smile that was visibly strained, and with sadness in his eyes. He knelt next to the empty bowl Flynn had been eating out of a bit earlier, laid the flowers in the man’s lap, and carefully took his hand.</p>
<p>For a moment neither of them spoke. The captain just stared at the gift.</p>
<p>“She’s in custody,” Shaw finally said. “She’ll never bother you again.”</p>
<p>
  <span>Flynn simply nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>“How are you feeling?”</p>
<p>He remained silent for a moment, not sure how to articulate the myriad of thoughts racing through his mind. “I’m okay,” he lied.</p>
<p>How could things be the same after all he’s been through? After he realised just how much of a waste of space he is? Now that he had a face ugly enough to match his wretchedness?</p>
<p>Shaw heaved a sigh. “Liar.”</p>
<p>There was no response.</p>
<p>“For an SI:7 contact, you’re really bad at deception.”</p>
<p>Flynn laced his fingers with Shaw’s, and blinked away a tear.</p>
<p>“She was right, you know.” His words came out low. “She lost everything because of me.”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t justify what she did,” was what Shaw decided to say. He wasn’t any good at consolation, though he really tried, and decided there’s no point in telling his beloved that it’s not true. He didn’t know the actual story, and even if it wasn’t true, Flynn was in a state in which it believed it to be.</p>
<p>“<span>I’m not a good person, Mattie,” Flynn said. </span><span>The</span><span> fingers that were broken mere hours ago gently grazed one of the roses. </span><span>They really were beautiful, and he didn’t deserve them. He’d been such a complete idiot, making selfish decisions that had such a profound impact on someone else’s life. He should’ve helped her find her way towards a happier life, and all he did was make it worse. And he was so focused on himself that he didn’t even notice.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>And then he went and flaunted his newfound fortune into people’s faces. He had it coming, didn’t he?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rose was red – like blood, as a cliché would describe it. Fitting for what he’s been throug</span>
  <span>h. Mathias came for him, just like the sailor hoped he would. Knew he would. But what if he’d get himself into trouble again? Being the </span>
  <span>moron</span>
  <span> that he was, and with a past where he made nothing but enemies, all of them bloodthirsty, it was very likely that he’d need rescuing again. It’s already happened twice since he started working on the right side of the law. Surely even a man as patient as Mathias Shaw would get tired of it. Maybe even start hating Flynn for bringing nothing but danger into their shared life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All the relationships Flynn’s ever had ended because of him; even if his partners didn’t say it directly, he knew the problem lied solely with him. Sooner or later, Shaw was bound to leave, too.</span>
</p>
<p>“You are,” the spymaster said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You’ve done some frankly dumb things, but who hasn’t?”</p>
<p>“You,” he said without a moment’s pause.</p>
<p>Shaw actually laughed, but it was mirthless. He confessed his worst mistakes to his partner before, and the memories of those admissions came back to Flynn like a cold night’s breeze. The names of the people he said he loved with all his heart, gone, lost in line of duty.</p>
<p>Amber.</p>
<p>Edwin.</p>
<p>Perhaps Mathias felt like he could’ve made a difference. Maybe he, too, thought that it were his decisions that led to his loss. They really weren’t so different, were they?</p>
<p>Flynn felt a shiver roll through him as gentle hands cupped his chin, and turned him to face the other man. “I’m the furthest thing from perfect, Flynn. But we don’t need to be. We just need to try being good enough.”</p>
<p>“As if I am.”</p>
<p>“<span>You are to me,” Shaw sighed and leaned in closer, but stopped a few inches from Flynn’s face. It might’ve been too soon. “Don’t let her get to you, my love, it’s what she wants.”</span></p>
<p>He was right, of course, and Flynn was well aware of that. He didn’t want to think all those things about himself, true or not, but he was just so tired of hurting he couldn’t find a way to stop. He was a broken man, ever since he was left alone in the world, and the sound of him breaking was that of a neck snapped by the gallows.</p>
<p>
  <span>But he wasn’t alone anymore, </span>
  <span>as t</span>
  <span>here was a man right there beside him, </span>
  <span>who invited Flynn into his home, </span>
  <span>just told Flynn he loved him. He couldn’t let demons of the past ruin the happiness he found.</span>
</p>
<p>He only needed to be good enough.</p>
<p>With tears welling in his eyes, unable to stop them, he gestured to his own face. “And this?”</p>
<p>Shaw smiled. He didn’t do it very often, but when he did it was warm, comforting, and made Flynn just a little bit calmer.</p>
<p>“As beautiful as ever.”</p>
<p>He leaned into the hand that touched his cheek. “But, you know… she and I weren’t that different. She signed onto my ship to escape an exceptionally shitty life, and I ruined her chance-”</p>
<p>“Hush,” Shaw brushed a stray bang off his lover’s forehead. “You told me you left that life overnight with literally nothing to your name, correct?”</p>
<p>“… Yeah?”</p>
<p>“So if things became as unbearable as she said, she could’ve left as well.”</p>
<p>Flynn put his hand on Shaw’s. “She said she didn’t want to be a traitor like me.”</p>
<p>The spymaster raised his eyebrows, and those brilliantly green eyes fixed on Flynn’s. “First of, if she considers finding an honest life to be treachery, so be it, but that’s hardly a bad thing. Second of, she made that choice for herself. Not something you can be held accountable for, is it?”</p>
<p>The captain didn’t respond at once. He just held that hand in his, warm and surprisingly soft for someone who worked with his hands in one way or another. He focused on that gentle touch, on that tenderness the like of which he hadn’t felt in years, if ever.</p>
<p>They were about to start a life together. Surely that was important enough for him to stray strong and fight through this… misery. There certainly was someone to help him find that strength.</p>
<p>It might take a while, but in time, things would be alright.</p>
<p>“<span>You’re right,” he finally said. “I think I paid my due</span><span>s</span><span>…”</span></p>
<p>Shaw leaned in closer, slowly, giving Flynn enough time to react. To pull away if he decided he’s not ready. But he didn’t budge, and when lips touched his, he responded in kind. The kiss was careful, gentle, and reassuring.</p>
<p>“Let’s get you home, shall we?” Mathias asked.</p>
<p>Flynn smiled, picking up the bouquet, his heart beating just a little bit faster. Yes, he wanted to go home. And his home was now in Stormwind, in that cosy apartment at the edge of Old Town, where a warm bed waited to be shared between him and the love of his life.</p>
<p>In time, those past few days would become just one of many demons haunting him at night, and it time, he’d learn to live with it.</p>
<p>
  <span>Flynn Fairwind was a survivor.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>For the wretched of the earth<br/>There is a flame that never dies<br/>Even the darkest night will end<br/>And the sun will rise<br/>- “Epilogue”, Les Misérables</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Apologies for this being so late. My PC died on me and I temporarily lost access to my files.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had been a couple weeks since Flynn was discharged by the healers and properly moved in with Shaw. </span>
  <span>He didn’t have a lot to take with him</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span> with most of his possessions being clothing and the odd accessory or two. Taelia helped </span>
  <span>haul </span>
  <span>them off the </span>
  <span>
    <em>Bold Arva</em>
  </span>
  <span> when the ship docked in port, with Flynn complaining loudly that his wallet got damaged with his own blood, clearly trying to downplay </span>
  <span>what he’s gone through</span>
  <span>. He always used humour to cover up for his pain, after all.</span>
</p>
<p>Shaw simply filed that away as a gift idea for the next occasion.</p>
<p>Neither of them spoke about those events, though. They moved Flynn in and that was that. Almost as if they reached an unspoken agreement to pretend nothing ever happened, however difficult it was with Flynn’s face being as obviously branded as it was. But if that’s what Flynn needed to cope, Shaw was more than happy to accommodate him and keep all concerns to himself.</p>
<p>Light knew he’s done that plenty of times with regards to his own traumas. The good captain was the only person who knew the full extent of the events in Suramar, and it took months for Shaw to surrender all the details.</p>
<p>It had been a very liberating experience, and he hoped his beloved would eventually open up to him about what happened in that cave. But he needed time, clearly, and time he’d get.</p>
<p>Which was why Shaw was so surprised that one evening at dinner, when Flynn reached out across the table to take his hand. “Mattie?”</p>
<p>He raised an eyebrow. “Yes..?”</p>
<p>“Do you want to go to bed with me?”</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaw’s heart skipped a beat. They’d been sleeping in the same bed ever since the sailor moved in, but that was the extent of it. A careful touch, a chaste kiss, holding hands as they walked together. But Flynn kept his distance, needing space to recover from the physical abuse, and so they hadn’t been intimate with each other. To hear that question got Shaw’s blood boiling immediately.</span>
</p>
<p>“If you’re sure?” He didn’t intend to make it a question, but that’s how it came out, betraying how unsure he was of whether it’d be alright.</p>
<p>“<span>I am,” Flynn gave him a small nod. “I need it. I need </span><span><em>you</em></span><span>. And I know you won’t hurt me.”</span></p>
<p>Oh Light, he wouldn’t dare.</p>
<p>Mathias stood, still holding the other man’s hand, and took him to the small bedroom. They started kissing even before they reached the door, and clothes began to drop piece by piece. Soon enough Flynn was laying on his back, with Shaw’s lips on his neck. His breath was deep and even, a smile on his face, and his body was warm as it pressed against the spymaster’s smaller frame.</p>
<p>“Relax,” Shaw said softly, hands roaming his lover’s chest, sides, thighs, at random. “Today it’s about you.”</p>
<p>“<span>As if you’re not enjoying this,” Flynn said with </span><span>h</span><span>is usual smug, confident grin. He was definitely feeling better, starting to become more and more like his old self, and it warmed Shaw’s heart.</span></p>
<p>He pressed his lips against the cock rapidly hardening in front of him, and revelled in the quiet moan. He missed it more than he realised; the sound of Flynn’s breath, the taste of skin and precome on his tongue, the strain of his jaw as he took that delicious length in. A hand buried itself in his hair and stroked slowly, urging him to move his head over the cock, to suck around it, and soon he found a steady rhythm.</p>
<p>“Mattie…”</p>
<p>He heard himself moan at the sound of his name, his own hardness demanding attention. But there would be time for that. They were in no hurry, and rushing things would more than just ruin the moment, what with Flynn as vulnerable as he was.</p>
<p>He pulled off the shaft, panting for air, and said: “Oil.”</p>
<p>
  <span>The captain</span>
  <span> shuffled to reach into the bedside table for the bottle they kept stashed there, with a lightly scented </span>
  <span>lubricant</span>
  <span>. They’</span>
  <span>d</span>
  <span> need to restock soon, </span>
  <span>Mathias</span>
  <span> noted, but Flynn would be the one to deal with that. The alchemist had a young apprentice, and she always gave them knowing smiles, and once or twice she wished them fun. </span>
  <span>He</span>
  <span> always left the shop with his face brick red.</span>
</p>
<p>As red as Flynn’s was now, with the oil being carefully spread around his entrance.</p>
<p>“Tell me if you ever want me to stop,” Shaw said, rubbing the inside of his lover’s thigh with his free hand. When no protest came, he slowly pushed one finger inside, and smiled when Flynn’s cock twitched.</p>
<p>
  <span>Blue eyes were watching intently as he opened Flynn up. “Good…” the captain breathed. “Tides, I missed this…”</span>
</p>
<p>He shuddered at a slow lick along his length. Shaw smiled, looking up at him with his eyes half-closed. “I did too…” He moved up, withdrawing his hand, and kissed the man on the lips. “I love you, Flynn.”</p>
<p>“I love you too.”</p>
<p>Shaw gave him the bottle. “Give me a hand?”</p>
<p>Oiled fingers quickly wrapped around his cock, and he didn’t bother stopping the moans that escaped him. The touch was slightly rough, Flynn’s skin hardened and calloused by years of handling ropes and coarse sails, and there was no hand Mathias would’ve rather felt.</p>
<p>“Did I mention how hot you are?” Flynn asked, squeezing gently.</p>
<p>“<span>Only about fifty times a day,” the spymaster’s voice broke at the change in pressure, and he finally pushed the hand away.</span></p>
<p>He lined himself up and with eyes fixed on Flynn’s, he entered him slowly.</p>
<p>
  <span>The several weeks since last time had done their job, and </span>
  <span>Ma</span>
  <span>thias</span>
  <span> met more resistance than usual. He paused about halfway in, and watched for any sign of pain or discomfort from his lover, but didn’t see any. If Flynn felt either, he showed none. Arms wrapped around Shaw’s neck and his lips were claimed in another deep, passionate kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>Encouraged, he started moving, inching deeper with each thrust. The tightness around him was simply exquisite, the hotness making his head spin. Their moans and whimpers mixed in the air between them. Shaw planted a soft kiss on one of the arms embracing him, right next to the new, long scar.</p>
<p>“You’re so beautiful…” he said quietly, his voice refusing to come out properly.</p>
<p>“Am I..?”</p>
<p>“Nothing can make me love you any less.”</p>
<p>Flynn smiled at him, and the smile was soft, gentle and content. “Who’d have thought… ah… that the big bad master assassin is such a sappy romantic…?”</p>
<p>Smirking, the spymaster pushed a bit harder, forcing a yelp out of his man. “Do you prefer this?”</p>
<p>“Yes!”</p>
<p>
  <span>H</span>
  <span>e continued like that, thrusts slow but powerful, bodies touching so close Flynn’s cock rubbed against Shaw’s toned abdomen. He struggled to keep a steady pace, the sensations overwhelming. But he did his best to hold back; that night Flynn was more important, and he wanted to give him as much as he could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Muscles tightened around him more and more. Tremors shook Flynn’s entire frame in waves. Soon, he cried out as he came between them, sudden, hot and violent. Shaw followed a mere moment after, spilling into the man under him, his vision blurring for those few explosive seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>They held each other for what felt like an eternity, struggling for breath. They kissed. Hands ran through hair and over sweaty backs. Soft words were exchanged; few, but more weren’t needed. There wasn’t much that needed saying, only a reminder of how much they meant to each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The trial of Ellaine – known for a while as pirate El the Painless – had been brief. During his abduction Flynn had been in the process of relocating from Kul Tiras to Stormwind, what left him in something of a legal limbo. To avoid prolonged administrative headaches the case was judged in Stormwind, like Shaw predicted, basing on the fact that at the time Flynn was already in possession of berthing papers for the </span>
  <span>
    <em>Bold Arva</em>
  </span>
  <span> that placed her home port in Stormwind. As such, Flynn could’ve been considered a citizen at that point. And from there, there was little issue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The city, unlike Kul Tiras, no longer recognised the death penalty. A life in prison was as much as she could get. El was given a permanent spot in the Stockade. Flynn was quite surprised to realise he didn’t feel the need for any more retribution. It wouldn’t change anything but make El more miserable – Tides his witness, he knew how horrible it was on the other end, and how genuinely pointless vengeance was. And he hadn’t the least desire to be like her. He decided the punishment given under the law was fine, and he could live with it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaw told him he was proud of him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Some time passed, and the world continued to turn.</span>
</p>
<p>The captain stared across the harbour, and the sea stretched out behind it, from their vantage point at Lion’s Rest. He was leaning against the stone wall and just watched people go about their lives, as they always did.</p>
<p>“It’s ridiculous, you know,” he finally said. He hadn’t spoken since he and Mathias left their apartment for some fresh air. He merely held his partner’s hand in silence the whole time.</p>
<p>Shaw frowned at him. “What is?”</p>
<p>“Nothing’s changed. The world never cared about what happened to me.”</p>
<p>“We cared. Taelia and I.”</p>
<p>Flynn smiled, but his eyes weren’t shining like they did when he was happy. “I know, love.” He was still not looking at the other man. “It’s just… I’ve gone through all that, and for what? Usually when I end up with my insides on the outside, I like there to be some sort of reason for it. Maybe doing it so that it doesn’t happen to someone else.” He shrugged. “But no one got anything out of it this time. Maybe El did, but what good did that do her in the end?”</p>
<p>He glanced at Shaw, and only saw that blank expression he almost forgot the man was capable of. The emotionless mask he wore on the job, and took off at home. If he felt a need to put it on next to the one person he trusted with his real self-</p>
<p>“Flynn, there… there’s something you should know.”</p>
<p>His heart tightened. “Yes…?”</p>
<p>It was the spymaster’s turn to avert his gaze. “She’s dead.”</p>
<p>“… What?”</p>
<p>“They found her hanging a few days ago.”</p>
<p>Flynn fell silent, looking back at the harbour. Watching calm waters always helped him focus his mind, and he needed that more than ever now that his thoughts took off racing faster than he could register all of them. He suddenly had so many questions he couldn’t yet answer. Questions of why, of what pushed her to do so. Of whether he felt sorry for her.</p>
<p>And why did it have to be by hanging?</p>
<p>He shook his head, trying to force all those thoughts into place. “What… did they say?”</p>
<p>Mathias took his hand again, and squeezed it tightly. “Officially? Suicide. Unofficially, no one knows for sure. The Stockade holds some of the most violent criminals of the Eastern Kingdoms.”</p>
<p>And no one would care to stop them from doing whatever it was they did. Flynn spent enough time around prisons to know they were cruel places to be, and that things happened there so unspeakable that his most recent predicament would just blend in with the rest of them. And it was allowed to continue for the simple reason that the fewer inmates there were, the fewer mouths to feed the wardens had.</p>
<p>Maybe a part of him had hoped that El would avoid that fate so she’d be forced to live with the consequences of her actions for the rest of her life. With the consequences of what she’d done to <em>him</em>. But the rest of him – the bigger part – knew that she wouldn’t allow that to happen.</p>
<p>“I think they’re right,” he said after a moment. “I think she did it herself.”</p>
<p>Shaw raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”</p>
<p>“Because she and I… we never really got to make any choices for ourselves, for most of our lives. And then came a point where we finally could.” He moved a bit closer to the other man, and was embraced by a comforting arm. “Me, I chose to make things right. She… I think she realised she doesn’t have that option anymore.”</p>
<p>Mathias’ voice was low. “So she chose to end it?”</p>
<p>“On her own terms,” Flynn nodded. “Her story, her ending.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps you’re correct.”</p>
<p>“I guess I’ll just go on thinking that I am.”</p>
<p>
  <span>That made it easier to live with.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading!</p>
<p>All kinds of comments are welcome and appreciated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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